


Must be magic

by CMDAK



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: F/M, Gen, M/M, Muggle/Wizard Relations, Wizarding World
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-14
Updated: 2018-07-30
Packaged: 2018-08-08 17:50:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 28,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7767397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CMDAK/pseuds/CMDAK
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Q is a muggle-born wizard who's thrown in a world he knows nothing about and that scares him as much as it fascinates him. James, alongside with his best friend and blood-brother Alec, become fascinated with something else in their school, and that's the awkward  1st year magical Muggle.</p><p>Basted on a tumblr prompt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A sweet Anonymous asked for a heavily crushing and quiet Ravenclaw!Q and a popular Gryffindor!James. 
> 
> Of course my muse deemed this to be a multi-chapter fic and Alec wormed his way in here - not JAQ though.
> 
> Enjoy~

He really didn’t understand what was happening. “Mom, there’s another one!” He called out from the living room, returning to chewing the blue pencil he was using to draw a car that could turn into a submarine as an envelope drifted through the window and landed right in front of him, the owl that had delivered it hooting at him before starting to clean its feathers.

 

“This is outright animal cruelty,” his mother muttered as she rushed into the room with a plate of seeds, snatching the letter on her way to the window. “This makes twenty owls just today!” She presented the animal with the plate, jumping back when the bird spread its wings at her.

 

“Thirty-six,” his father corrected as he walked into the house, showing his wife the neat stack he was holding right before throwing it on the ground in favour of picking the child up in his arms. “There’s my little boy! I was afraid that one of those large birds made away with my little man,” he joked, earning a swat upside his head for his words. “Darling, I was only joking; I know you’d never allow that to happen and I am very sure our Q would give them indigestion.”

 

Q squealed when he saw that his father was attempting to bite him, but he was saved by his mother who shoved an apple in his mouth and slapped him upside the head again. “Stop talking like that before you give him nightmares.” She covered him in kissed and rubbed her lipstick off of his cheeks.

 

He struggled to get away, of course, since he was a big boy even if he was a few centimetres shorter than all the other kids his age – not his class, because he was smart and they let him skip a year. “Mom, not in front of the owls,” he pleaded desperately, managing to wiggle out of her arms. “They’re going to mock me,” he added, wiping his cheeks, sticking his tongue out at the whitest owl that seemed to always follow him with its large eyes, hooting whenever he was about to do something was told not to do.

 

“Q, darling, don’t be silly; they’re just owls. Now come here so I can finish making your cheeks rosy.” His mother made to grab him and kiss him again, but Q was fast on his feet and he ran, hiding behind his father.

 

“Dad, she’s embarrassing me again!” And of course his father decided that now was the perfect time to also embarrass him and both his parents continued to kiss him and to add insult to injury, they also started to tickle him. “I shan’t eat my vegetables tonight,” he warned but that didn’t really have an impact on them because they never actually forced him to eat what he didn’t like and he quite liked his vegetables, thank you very much.

 

Both of them knew that and just laughed as they kissed his cheeks one more time before his mother announced that they shall stop because she was afraid her little Q would turn into an actual little tomato.

 

She served dinner, discussing a similar incident that had happened a few years back in another town the Dudley family – Dursely, his father corrected. “Well, point is that I heard they had to move away,” she concluded and Q let out a little whine because he quite like his school and his friends and almost tolerated all of his teachers.

 

His father leaned close to him and squeezed his shoulder, smiling reassuringly. “No, no, darling. We won’t do that, don’t worry. I am sure that the newspapers were only exaggerating.” He exchanged a look with his wife and Q frowned because that was the look both his parents had when they were planning on doing something he didn’t like – such as going to Mister Abbott, the dentist with the crooked smile, horrible machines, and tasteless sweets that he’d gladly do without.

 

“Maybe we should go visit my sister up in Cambridge over the weekend?” His mother asked carefully, already looking around for her little yellow notebook.

 

His father cringed, not a secret that he and Q’s aunt didn’t agree on many things. “Darling, we shouldn’t rush into things. I’ll call animal control again when we are done eating and see when they’ll be able to assist us with this.”

 

After dinner, his mother made sure that his bag for tomorrow was properly done and then they all watched TV even as more owls and letters came. Inspiration struck him in the middle of the news and he quickly scurried to his little table near the window, flinching and dropping his pen when he heard a hoot and saw the big owl watching him carefully, head tilted to the side.

 

“What do you want?” He asked and got a letter thrown in his face by another, much smaller owl which got pecked in the head and chased away by the one that seemed to like watching him. “Mom, another one! And I think I got a papercut!”

 

He didn’t, but that was what he said when he actually wanted her to kiss him. “There, all healed up and without a trace,” she said as she picked him up and carried him to the bathroom, starting to wash his hair.

 

The owl had perched itself on the windowsill, beady eyes glue to him in such a way that Q was starting to believe his father’s earlier words about the bird plotting to eat him. His parents did call him their adorable little mouse and every now and then, his wild hair did a thing that made it look like he had mouse ears.  

 

Yes, his hair was most definitely doing just that, he decided, and the owl was hungry. So when the bird stretched its wings, Q screamed and clung to his mother as she was wrapping him in towels. “Mom, that bird looks strong enough to actually fly away with me and I read in a book that they use their sharp talons to rip the meat off of their prey’s bones.” The owl started to jump from one leg to another, shaking its head as if it was in complete disagreement with what Q was saying – that or trying to find the right angle to fly in and get his prey and frankly, he was sure this was the right thing. “Please don’t let it do that!” His squeal sent it flying away and his mother whisked him into their bedroom, glaring at his father as she helped Q dress himself in his pyjamas.

 

“What did I tell you about making certain jokes around him, _darling_?” She hissed, sneaking in a few kicks when his father joined them in bed. “He’s sure that the bird is out to get him.”

 

“I was joking earlier, Q,” his father whispered, caressing his head and flinching when his wife kicked him again, no doubt glaring at him. “Those birds are not going to eat you. They’re just here as a part of…” He trailed off and Q could see the way he scrunched up his face in an attempt to come up with an explanation through the room’s semi-darkness. “It’s just an elaborate prank but you can go to sleep without any fear as animal control assured me that they will have enough cages tomorrow for all of them.”

 

Q peeked over his father, at the window, whimpering and clutching the covers tightly. The owl was there, letting the envelope in his beak fall in favour of quickly dodging away from the window. “Love, he’s not going to get you. The window is closed and you are sitting between your father and me.” She ran her hand through his hair and kissed his forehead, Q not trying to shake her off right then, even snuggling closer to her. “You do know that we wouldn’t let anything get to you, right?”

 

He was well aware of that, but that bird… was not big enough to pick his parents in the air, but its talons were still sharp enough to hurt them. “Mom—”

 

She shushed him and his father got up to close the blinds, the bird flying away the second it saw the man move towards it. “Nothing bad will happen, Q. Now close your eyes and go to sleep because you have school tomorrow and no, I’m not switching your milk for Coca-Cola so you can stay awake during your first period.”

 

In all honesty, Q wasn’t sure that pure coffee would be able to keep him awake during that time because Mrs. Drawler’s voice was able to put to sleep anyone and everyone. He could see his classmates visibly struggling to keep their eyes open whenever she was explaining something, the ones who were unfortunate enough to fail ending up having to rake the dead leaves for an hour afterschool as punishment while the woman droned on about rudeness.

 

He woke up to his father tickling his foot, ending up hanging upside down when he tried to curl up and disappear under the covers. “But I don’t want to go to school,” he whined, his father chuckling as he placed him on his back and ran down the stairs.

 

“Your mother made pancakes, but I’ll eat all of them if you don’t open your eyes and tug on my ears,” his father teased and Q was instantly awake.

 

Crawling down his father’s back, Q rushed to the kitchen where a plate full of them awaited him. “You’ll turn into a giant balloon if you do that because those pancakes are made just for me and mom said that that would happen if you eat them without asking me first!” He stuffed one in his mouth, almost choking when he saw that the bird was at the window, eyes glued to him. “Go away!” He screamed and his parents where instantly next to him, hiding him behind their bodies, his father making sure the window was closed with a mop.

 

The bird hooted and, upon Q repeating his earlier command, flew away, followed by the other twenty smaller owls. They finally got scared by a loud noise, his parents said because it was impossible for a bird to understand what it was being ordered. They would never return as the strange prank finally came to an end, they promised him but they still talked with his teachers, asking them to keep an eye on the sky for large owls.

 

However, the owl left because it understood what Q had told him and it really didn’t like that the little human was scared of him. How silly of Muggle parents to word things in such a way that they find it amusing, but that it scares their nestlings – not that wizards are better at this, mind you, but from what he had heard about this Q, he assumed his parents would have more of a brain. You didn’t hear members of his species tell their hatchlings that if they don’t eat their worms or mice, a hawk or a fox would come up to their nest and eat them.

 

“Dear me, are you here for more letters?” Minerva McGonagall asked him the second he landed by her opened window.

 

No, I am here to ask you to make it so that my human isn’t afraid of me, the owl wanted to say but couldn’t. Instead, it rustled its feathers and shook its head, hooting and jumping from one leg to another.

 

“I cannot say that I blame them form not believing the letter. To most of them, magic is nothing but an illusion, but I do so wish that that special section of their government would assist us whenever we have Muggle born wizards,” the old woman said softly, taking out a wand from her robes, flicking it in that special way that made food appear.

 

But the owl didn’t really feel like eating because his human was _afraid_ of him. Miss Granger’s owl didn’t have to deal with this and even though her parents were more attached to it than Hermione herself – who had opted to buy that ancient being that was actually friends with the normal rats instead of doing what a cat was supposed to do – he actually wanted Q to like him, pet him, carry him on his shoulder, and nuzzle his head.

 

Maybe he should pop over to the Granger’s and ask their owl what he should do pacify his human and assure him that he really didn’t mean him any harm. Humans seemed to coo whenever cats brought them dead things after the initial feeling of disgust passed, but something told him that Q would likely start to cry and think he was the main course.

 

“I’ll deal with this, don’t worry,” Minerva said softly, flashing him one of her rare warm smiles. “As young mister Boothroyd is the only muggle born wizard for this year and given the horrible things this school and everyone in it went through, it would be an insult if the Headmistress didn’t present herself and explain what Hogwarts is and, more importantly, just how special their child is.”

 

All parents thought that their children where special – well, the _good_ parents did. And it wasn’t that Minerva thought they weren’t, but some were more special than others in certain categories and, as it happened, not only was Q smart in the Muggle department of science, but he also showed in inclination towards magic.

 

His powers awakened not two weeks ago when, during a field at a museum that would have had Mister Weasley in hot water with both the Ministry of Magic and his wife, he accidentally used _Accio_ and summoned a car’s engine that was behind some glass and they weren’t allowed to touch.

 

The poor child had been scared, mostly because the heavy thing almost fell on his feet, and the people put in charge with the factory’s security almost lost their jobs, a police investigation – in which the child wasn’t involved because people feared that they might be sued for endangering him as well as the fact that it was ruled from the start that it was impossible for him to have stolen it – was pending, but Minerva wasn’t worried about the outcome.

 

Muggles had a gift to find a way to explain everything and anything in a way that excluded magic and she wouldn’t be surprised if she’d find an article in a future Muggle newspaper about how the rat population had gotten so worrisome for that factory that the critters managed to almost run away with an engine. Never mind that rats wouldn’t be interested in metal or that they weren’t known for their ability to lift things that were way heavier than them. Whatever put the Muggle mind at ease was a good explanation.

 

Well, that wasn’t her department and now wasn’t the time to think about it. Now was the time for her to make herself look presentable, make sure that everything was set at Hogwarts for the new year of school, and then pop in for a visit that was sure to be an enlightening one for the Boothroyds.

 

The owl started to jump excitedly from one foot to the other, making noises and flapping its wings and Minerva couldn’t find it in herself to tell the animal that she wouldn’t need his help from this point onwards. She held out her hand and the creature excitedly flew to her shoulder, probably internally smiling that she was going to try to help put things straight – although she wasn’t sure that she could.

 

Checking her watch, she adjusted her hat and cloak as best she could with the happy owl on her arm and took a deep breath and in a blink of an eye, she was staring at the magical child’s empty house. “Dear me, we’ve arrived too soon,” she muttered. “We’re going to have to wait for them to return home,” she explained to the owl, wagging her finger at him. “I expect you to be on your best behaviour.”

 

The owl landed on a tree branch and made itself as small as it could, blinking in what might be seen as an innocent way as Minerva shifted into a tabby cat and walked up to the front door where she promptly plopped herself.

 

This saddened her a bit because it reminded her of a darker time, where she was waiting in the shadows for something that hurt her so much more. But at least Albus was alive and, though she did not agree with what the man had decided to do all those years ago and if he were alive, she’d still chew his ear off, the bottom line was that he wasn’t alive. He wasn’t there and she was slightly afraid that something bad would happen, even if Voldemort had truly died.

 

“Look, mom! A cat!” A child shouted excitedly and Minerva silently admitted to herself that maybe it would have been better if she came by via car and in her human form even if it would have been less dramatic and made it harder for her to convince them that yes, she has magical powers and yes their precious child really is a wizard.

 

“Don’t tell me they now have cats walking around with that ridiculous letter on them,” the woman that had to be the mother said, glancing around. “Oh and the…” Minerva realized that the woman saw the owl and she wondered what had happened to have the woman look so worriedly at her child. “Q, darling, let’s go inside, wash our hands and start on the homework while I make you some more pancakes.”

 

She did not like the way the child was eyeing her, ignoring the stern look she was giving him and very obviously calculating just how hard it would be for him to pick her up. “Mom,” the child started and sure enough, Minerva found herself pulled to his chest, tiny hands covering her head, “can we take the kitty with us? In case that mean owl comes back and eats it.”

 

On cue, the owl let out a noise and the child hugged Minerva tighter to his chest, perfect position for the woman to _feel_ the magic inside of him starting to build up. But the owl plopped right next to the tree and carefully started to walk towards the woman – who had clutched her purse and readied herself to swat at the poor thing with it – and the child that was a thought away from a semi-powerful spell.

 

Before anything bad could happen, the owl flung something at the child and then quickly wobbled behind the tree and Minerva realized that it was a piece of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans – and it looked like one of the disgusting ones, but she didn’t have to fear anything because the boy’s mother acted faster than the child could blink.

 

“Don’t even think about putting it in your mouth, Q,” she warned and took out a napkin from her purse alongside her keys.

 

Q himself pulled a face, sticking his tongue out. “It has owl drool and dirt all over it. Plus, he might be trying to fatten me up,” he added under his breath, glaring at the owl. “I have a high metabolism so you can forget about getting a good meal out of me,” he said loudly, right before running inside the house.

 

“When I get my hands on Geoffrey,” the woman mumbled under her breath, letting out a sigh when she saw the cat. “I’ll go run a bath because you won’t like it if you get bitten by fleas.”

 

That was where Minerva drew the line and risking being dropped and causing the woman to faint, she spoke up. “Madam, I assure you that I do not have a single flea or tick.” The woman was still standing – although she was a lot of shades whiter – but the child dropped her and the room was crackling with unrefined magic. “I mean you no harm, young Mister Boothroyd. I am here to explain what Hogwarts is and what you are.”

 

She shifted back in her human form and that helped Q’s mother regain a bit of her senses and pull the young child behind her. “Who are you? _What_ are you and what kind of a sick joke is this?”

 

Dusting herself off and arranging her hat once again, Minerva pulled out her want and flicked her wrist, a new letter in her hand. “I am Minerva McGonagall, the Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, which is one of the finest schools in the wizard world.” She patiently waited for the woman to take the letter before crouching down to look at Q. “And you, young mister Boothroyd, are a wizard; the first of your family.”

 

The door opened and in came the old mister Boothroyd, the woman finally giving in and fainting. Things where never easy with Muggle parents.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This... will take longer than expected.  
> I tried searching for wand tests, but they all gave you results like "Harry's wand" or "Ron's wand" and I wanted them to have partially original ones. Ended up researching the wand and core meanings from the Potter universe for myself to give them the right ones.
> 
> Thank you for your kudos and comments and I hope you continue to enjoy this.

The train station was bustling with people and Q’s mother held on tightly to his hand, afraid that something or someone would rip her precious treasure from her and she would never see him again. His father hand insisted that he carry him on his shoulders, but the luggage trolley he was pushing on behalf of his son was much too heavy for his mother and the owl was restless, flapping its wings and trying to bust out if Q wasn’t on ground level on in its sight.

 

“I can’t believe we’re actually doing this,” his father grumbled, returning a glare he was receiving for keeping an owl as a pet. “I am still not entirely sure we weren’t drugged when this _Headmistress_ _McGonagall_ showed us magic.”

 

His mother shook her head. “We’ve been to the hospital and all of your blood tests came back negative for drugs.” She kneeled before Q and started to try to arrange his messy hair, something she always did when she was nervous. “And our darling…” she trailed off, remembering.

 

The cat-woman had wasted no time helping them regain their senses, apologizing for her crude behaviour and her less than tactful way of revealing a world that existed just at the edge of their vision. “We do what we do to keep people without magical powers safe, as muggles have more than enough of their own problems,” she started to explain without being properly prompted after Q’s mother mutely asked her to take a sit.

“What’s a muggle?” Q asked as he peeked from behind his mother, catching only a small glimpse of the woman before his father moved to block him, shushing him. “What? You can’t say that you don’t want to know what that word means, father.”

 

His father opened his mouth to speak and mention that curiosity wasn’t the thing he should really focus on right now, just in case the woman found offense in his questions and decided to turn them all into roaches and crush them, but the woman answered him first.

 

“A muggle, dear boy, is a person who lacks any sort of magical abilities, any magical blood, and who was not born in the magical world. But you are a muggle- _born_ ,” she continued, anticipating his next question, “the first of the families that combined to bring you into this world to exhibit such powers.”

 

Q looked at his hands and, because he was suddenly feeling like eating ice cream, tried to will into existence a big tub of chocolate flavoured – with bits of marshmallow in it, just like in an American movie he had seen not two days ago – but ended up with nothing more than a small headache. “I think you have the wrong Boothroyd family,” Q muttered, pushing his face against the back of his mother’s leg.

 

“Magic, like all things in life, requires training, young Mister Boothroyd. You have the gift of magic, but you have not been trained to use it and to bend it to your will.” She pulled out another of those letters that they had been flooded with over the past few weeks and held it out to his mother. “And that is what Hogwarts is for, Mrs and Mister Boothroyd.”

 

“Can I turn into a cat, like you?” Q asked again before he could be stopped, curiosity getting the better of him once again. “If so, is that why my hair is always messy and it sometimes looks like I got cat ears?”

 

The woman chuckled again, getting off the sofa so she could look at him. “Every wizard and witch has that potential in them to become an animagus, young mister Boothroyd. But—”

 

“It takes a lot of practice and patience, I know, I know,” Q interrupted her, pouting. He never really thought magic existed, but he had made that engine appear right before him back then even if the coveted ice cream currently eluded him and he had also seen the woman before him be a talking cat and he couldn’t spot any machinery that might have assisted her.

 

His parents tried to put up a fight, explaining to the woman that she _must_ be wrong because their child was normal – no offense, his mother quickly added, chewing on her lower lip as she felt bad for uttering such a sentence. He couldn’t magic anything and what happened at the factory was just a wired coincidence and nothing more.

 

“Mrs Boothroyd, I understand why you are inclined not to believe me as all Muggle parents with half a mind do find it hard to actually believe in something that they were taught was nothing but a trick of the eye,” the old woman said slowly, nodding approvingly at them and suddenly holding a large book bound in peeling black leather that seemed to be not of this world. “To chase away all doubts you have, I have brought with me The Book of Admittance and I assure you that doing so isn’t an easy task as it hates to leave its tower in the school.”

 

The book flew on its own to the table and yellow pages started to turn on their own until they reached a portion were only a single name was written in a silver ink and the apparent Headmistress of a school that should not exist if human logic was applied motioned the two scared parents closer to see the name for themselves.

 

When it became clear that they did not plan on budging an inch from where they were sat and that they were a second away from somehow gluing their hands to their curious child’s arms to ensure that he wouldn’t bolt to the table, the book threw itself right in their faces, flapping its pages at them until they read the name out loud.

 

“That should settle everything, wouldn’t you agree?” The headmistress asked and muttered something under her breath, making the book disappear. “About him having magical powers, I mean, not about you _having_ to give him to me or enrol him in my school. We are civilised people, not brutes who kidnap children in the night because of their magical potential.”  

 

Q wanted the book to return so he could flip through its pages and ask how it was that it could be there one second and then gone the other – though he suspected that the woman would smile and say magic – but he got the distinct impression that the book had found its short existence in the lounge to be a pain.

 

“Isn’t it a bit late for school to start? Or is the Magical world under a different calendar?” His father asked, clinging to the only logical part he could find in the whole matter.

 

The woman tilted her head to the left a bit, humming. “We’ve had some issues with the school last year—”

 

“Is it safe for Q to be there?/How would we know our child is safe?” Both his parents asked at the same time, jumping to their feet.

 

“We only have the best of the best wizards teach there and should anything dangerous rear its ugly head, I guarantee you that our staff is more than willing and ready to lay down their lives to protect the students.” She held herself in a different way than before, not in pride, but in determination and the little sparks that went off around her were visible to even his parents.

 

Slowly, they turned their eyes on their little treasure, kissing his forehead and running their hands through his hair and down his back. “Then if… If Q wants to…” His mother started, her voice trembling.

 

“I do,” Q chipped in, excited by the world that couldn’t exist. “I want to see how magic works and if science could do what it does!” He made to run towards one of the many letters that were on another table, but ended up flinching when the big owl flew in with one such letter, trying to give it to him. “Are wizards the owl’s preferred food?” He asked and the headmistress showed him a kind smile as the owl perched up on her shoulder.

 

“No, my dear boy, they are not.” She ran her hand down the owl’s back, patting it lightly before sending it away. “Especially not to that one since he has found it fitting to appoint himself to you, thus checking off one of the items from your supply list.”

 

“Supply list?” both of his parents asked at the same time, tilting their heads to the side as they were presented with a scroll which was filled with words the second they touched it. “Where are we to buy all of these strange things?” His mother asked and McGonagall smiled slyly at them.

 

“Hogwarts is a wizarding school, after all, so simple notebooks and pens will not do.”

 

After his parents were assured that Q would be able to get by in life with what he was being taught in Hogwarts if he chose to live in the only world they knew, the woman going so far as to offer too have older muggle-born tutor him in mathematics and whatever other subjects they wanted him to learn, they took him out of his normal school and the days that followed were the strangest ones he had ever had in his short life.

 

They entered a world that existed behind a wall in a small pub, where the buildings were tilted in ways that shouldn’t have allowed them to actually stand and that were somehow much bigger on the inside – his father made a joke about a blue police box that was completely lost on him, but that had his mother chuckle.

 

Their first stop was at Gringotts Wizarding Bank, a place ran by what the Headmistress described as goblins, so they could exchange their pounds into wizard currency. His parents looked scared by the strange people that ran the bank, but Q was, of course, curious and struggled to grab the edge of the high counter to look at the goblin that was serving them, especially after having heard him speak in what sounded like gibberish to another goblin.

 

“What language was that?” He asked before he could stop and the old goblin narrowed his eyes and adjusted his glasses, leaning closer to take a better look at him.

 

“By the type of money that I am exchanging and the curiosity in your eyes, I take it that I am dealing with a muggle-born?” The question was directed at the headmistress who gave a short nod. “I spoke my native language, which is Gobbledegook. Not gobbledygook, as some chose to mock it, but Gobbledegook.”

 

“That’s a strange name for a language,” Q muttered, frowning and struggling to pronounce it properly.

 

“Q,” his mother said in a sharp tone, tugging him back to her side. “Don’t be rude or disrespectful.”

 

The goblin moved his hand, the money on the counter replaced by strange coins. “A child’s curiosity is not something we consider offensive in certain cases.” He leaned closer to Q again, smiling. “And English is a strange word and language to us as well, so I know how he feels.”  

 

Their next stop was a small little shop that was full of children and their parents, all greeting Mrs McGonagall. Some clapped when she passed by them and she sketched a small smile and nodded her head, but paid no more attention than that to them. “I assure you that I do not deserve their gratitude; I simply did what a headmaster was supposed to do,” she said cryptically. “Come along now child—” She stopped herself and looked embarrassed at the Boothroyds. “A slip of the tongue for which I apologize.”

 

His mother chuckled. “It is quite all right; you did mention that you were a teacher for many years and that will stay with you for a long time, if not forever.”

 

From this shop, they bought three sets of black robes – plan work robes, as they were described on the list – that were said to give the wearer greater defence – why would my child need that, his mother had asked scared out of her mind – agility, and magical strength, a pointed hat – strange how Halloween costumes were so right about certain aspects – a pair of protective gloves – they bought ones made out of dragon hide, even if they refused to believe that such creatures existed – and two winter cloaks even though only one was required.

 

“Winter is Q’s favourite season and I just know that he’ll get the first one dirty in less than five minutes of stepping outside,” his mother said, running her hands down Q’s face.

 

The bookshop was where they stopped next and it was just as busy as the clothing store if not more, only Q was distracted from the rows upon wobbly rose of boos by the moving paintings that adorned the shop. “How do they do that?” He asked as he tugged the robe of the person closest to him - which should have tipped him that it wasn't his mother or father or even Mrs McGonagall, who was wearing a dark green robe and he was tugging on a black one.

 

“How do they do what?” A stranger asked and Q jumped a step back, scared that he might have done something to offend a being that was surely much more powerful than him in both the physical and the magical sector of things.

 

“Sorry! I thought you were someone else,” he muttered and tried to bolt away, only for the stranger to grab his arm and stop him from bumping into a particularly tall person.

 

“It wouldn’t be good for Hogwarts if first years got crushed even before they participated in their first class, now would it?” the stranger asked with a hint of laughter in his voice.

 

Q looked surprised at the blond boy, eyes wide. “How did you know that I am a first year? Is that something wizards can do? What else can you tell me about me without me telling—?”

 

The tall boy laughter interrupted Q’s question and he turned red to the tip of his ears, wishing that he’d know a spell to make himself invisible. “So, you're a muggle-born, right?” He asked and Q nodded slowly, feeling his heart dropping in the pit of his stomach when he saw _something_ flash in those green eyes. “Don’t worry; I am not going to hold that against you. I myself am a half-blood, so that wouldn’t only make me incredibly stupid, but also a huge hypocrite.”

 

Q really regretted that he hadn’t brought a notebook with himself so he could jolt down all the new words he was hearing. “Not to offend,” he started carefully, chewing on his lip as he pinpointed his father and calculated just how he’d had to squirm from the other’s careful hold on his hand so he could dash towards safety just in case he ended up doing just what he really wished he didn’t, “but does that mean you have one parent that’s considered a non-magical person?”

 

“Q!” His father called out, gently tugging on one of his wild locks. “We really must talk about what you can and cannot ask,” he chastised him softly before turning to bow his head towards the wizard. “I do apologize for my son.”

 

The boy laughed, releasing Q’s hand now that there was someone else to keep him out of trouble. “No need to, sir. All muggles and muggle-born are curious when they find our world, but it’s the kids who ask the question that are on everyone’s minds. Though he should be cautious about who he asks those questions, as some wizards are snobs and narrow-minded.” He held out his hand, not to his father, but to Q. “Alec Trevelyan, late by one year to get in the fourth one, but because of family issues and not because I am a slow learner, and a very proud Gryffindor.”

 

“Q,” he breathed out, taking Alec’s hand and shaking it, confused beyond all words about everything he had just heard – but he was sure that things would start to eventually make sense.

 

“Bless you,” Alec replied, a grin that could easy rival that of any Cheshire cat drawing he had seen. “Now, what was your name?”

 

Q snickered which seemed to only encourage Alec who proceeded to make a lot of jokes and puns that continued to make no sense to him. Even his father didn’t understand them – so they weren’t dirty, Q concluded – and seemed like he wanted to grab the nearest person of this world and ask if it was okay for his son to hear them or if he was supposed to ask someone to magic those words away.

 

They were both saved by Q’s mother who smiled pleasantly at Alec and insisted on embarrassing Q once more by asking out loud if her little wizard had found himself a little friend to keep him out of trouble and then going to pinch his cheeks! He was mortified, Alec amused, and his father a rotten accomplice because as soon as his mother let go of his cheeks he started to pinch them.

 

“We really must be going now,” Q said quickly, guiding them to the door through which his new headmistress had departed once she was sure the family was united. “I hear finding a wand is quite hard and all.”

 

“Mine just flew at my head, so I am not so sure that’s really that hard,” Alec called out after him, Q seeing another boy walk up to him and the both of them start to talk.

 

The cauldron, set of phials, telescope, and brass scales were easy to acquire with Q particularly happy about the phials as it reminded him of a chemistry set one of his uncles had bought him just last year and his mother wandering out loud if her old cooking pot wouldn’t be just as good.

 

“It looks exactly like this one, if a little used,” she continued to explain, running her finger over the brass cauldron’s indentations.

 

Mrs McGonagall’s interest had been piqued by his mother’s words, her green eyes shining with curiosity. “Might I inquire if this cooking pot happens to be a family heirloom?”

 

“My wife has it from her mother and so on and so forth until before the First World War,” his father explained, keeping a hand on his shoulder to make sure that he wouldn’t lose him in the large crowd of people that seemed to follow them around, whispering and waving excitedly at their kind guide. “Though I must confess that the only time we tried to use it to cook something, the food came out tasting entirely different and the chicken that went in came out looking like fish!”

 

Mrs McGonagall hummed, but said nothing and they continued their little shopping trip, with Q rooting himself in front of a shop that sold broomsticks. He questioned how it was possible for something heavier than air and without a propulsion system fly, tilting his head back to look at the sky and see if he could spot anyone breaking the laws of gravity. Surely even wizards had to follow those, right? Or was the wood not wood? Or was the wood under a spell? Could wizards and witches fly by using a spell?

 

The latter question seemed to upset his headmistress, or at least sadden here. “There were only two wizards in our history that flew without a broom and without being winged animagus,” she said in a suddenly tired voice, her eyes seeing a completely different world than what was before them.

 

Though young and with little experience in life, Q  knew without being told that he wasn’t to ask what the woman was thinking about and that the faster they leave the shop, the better it would be. After all, he didn’t want to upset the headmistress and be expelled even before classes started.

 

Their last stop was at a place called ‘Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 BC’, Q’s heart and stomach starting to feel funny the second he stepped foot in it. He looked around in amazement, deaf to the conversation that went between his parents and the respectable Mister Ollivander, shopkeeper and wandmaker.

 

And who could even pay attention to anything else but boxes upon boxes that touched the crooked ceiling and some of them seemed to sing and silent tune while others prattled amongst each other in a language that he didn’t understand? For that matter, why didn’t his parents seem to notice the chatter that was going on?

 

“They’re calling for you,” the shopkeeper said softly, a smile on his face as he crouched down next to him, holding out a wand. “Only magical beings can hear the noises in this shop when they are without a tool and then feel the pride and joy of their own wand should they visit me for a second time.”

 

“But sticks don’t talk and don’t feel proud,” Q argued half-heartedly, nibbling on his thumbnail. By his normal logic, this whole place couldn’t exist, the headmistress couldn’t turn into a cat, and hobgoblins that made money disappear were but a figment of imagination that held hands with leprechauns at the end of rainbows.

 

He didn’t know exactly why he suddenly wanted to reject this fascinating world and hide between his parents, but he guessed it might have something to do with the many claws that had suddenly sunk in his heart – although, ‘claw’ wasn’t exactly the right word for this; it felt intrusive, yes, but it didn’t hurt him. They _pawed_ at him, much like a box full of kittens that each wanted to be adopted, only there was an unspoken promise of strength hidden behind those gentle nudges.

 

“Neither do cats and I have yet to see a non-magical one turn into a respectable woman whose loyalty gives her great powers beyond that which her magic could express,” the keeper said softly, nodding his head in the direction of the silent headmistress. “I guarantee that I will never make a wand out of my own free will which would hurt those with no ill intent towards others and no wand that you sense here wants to cause you harm.” He took the wand that didn’t seem to hold the child’s interest from him and started to look through other boxes, seemingly talking with the wands and berating them for their eagerness to find a new owner.

 

Mrs McGonagall placed her hand on Q’s shoulder and squeeze it softly, somehow lessening the fear he felt. “A muggle-born’s first trip to a shop such as this can be quite overwhelming and I have heard that even Miss Granger, a muggle-born of great power and ability to best even the purest of bloods when her friends were in danger, had to take a step back when it came to finding hers.”

 

Q wondered if he’d hear more about this Miss Granger and felt like he wanted to meet her and ask her if he had made the right choice by stepping into this world, or if he should have drowned out his curiosity and original eagerness and just cling to the world he knew best.

 

“What if—” He started, but swallowed his words and forgot his doubt when he saw the way his parents looked at him, with pride and concern at the same time. No, he had to be strong for them and for himself as this would be too beautiful of a gift to waste just because he felt anxious. “How will I know the wand I end up with is the right wand?” He asked instead, his attention suddenly caught by a box that seemed to have housed a wand that ‘spoke’ and ‘sang’ louder than all the others.

 

Mister Ollivander abandoned the new box he was inspecting in favour of gently pulling out the one that had caught Q’s attention. “Something tells me that you are about to put that worry to rest by yourself,” he whispered and opened the lid, presenting the young muggle-born with the wand.

 

At the sight of the slightly bended silver stick that also seemed to glow, Q felt all the air get sucked out of his lungs. His fingers twitched and he wiggled them before he allowed himself to touch the object, shivering at the contact. “It’s cold and warm at the same time,” Q described to his parents. “It’s… nice, comforting… empowering?” He opened his eyes and looked at the wand and then at the box, munching on his lower lip.

 

“If you feel as if that is indeed your wand and if your parents want to buy it, you can keep it in your pocket or up your sleeve from now own,” Mrs McGonagall said helpfully and Q turned on the full charm when he focused his eyes on his parents.

 

As if they were going to turn down buying him something this important. Minerva had done a heck of a good job explaining that the most essential thing a young wizard could have, even above his robes and cauldron, was his wand. A wizard or witch wasn’t a complete one until they had something that would help them channel their magical powers and one had to be sure that they had the right kind.

 

“Oh, darling, of course we’ll buy it,” his mother assured him running her hand through his hair, hesitating to touch the possible weapon. “Is it safe for him? He won’t accidentally summon something that will hurt him, will he? Or trip and poke him in the eye so bad that he’ll lose it?”

 

The wandmaker hummed, rubbing his chin. “Well, I can’t guarantee that he won’t trip if he is naturally inclined to do that.” Minerva focused her eyes on him and he cleared his throat, holding his hand out for Q to lend him his wand – because, as far as he was concerned, the wand had already chosen the wizard and the wizard was more than happy to accept it. “A wand in the hands of his master will do its best not to hurt him, but it is ultimately up to the spell the wizard or witch uses.”

 

“And we will be teaching young mister Boothroyd here the proper way to cast a spell, so do not worry,” Minerva chimed in, placing her hands on Q’s shoulders. “Do you know that this one and mine both have a dragon heartstring for a core?”

 

“You mean from an actual dragon?” Q asked incredulously and Minerva nodded. “Is it from the same dragon?”

 

Ollivander glanced at the wands, and shook his head. “But would you like to know more about it?”

 

Q glanced at his parents and then at the wound, smiling brightly when he saw them nod and reach for the bag of coins, Mister Ollivander more than happy to give him the wand back as it was now officially his. “Oh, yes please!”

 

They ended up spending an entire hour in the shop, Q hanging on the wandmaker’s every word and somehow managing not to get in the man’s way as he followed him around the shop. And the only reason why they went home after just a single hour was because Q had fallen asleep and the only reason why Q hadn’t insisted on going back to the shop the second he woke up was because he had been assured via owl-letter – much to his horror as it was his supposed owl that brought him the piece of parchment – that he would have more than enough time to learn about of all that at Hogwarts.

 

With shopping done as well as his luggage, all that was left for him to do was to be shipped off to this wondrous school of wizardry. But as that faithful day drew closer, Q’s excitement started to be slowly replaced by apprehension and all the doubts he had back at the shop came flooding in.

 

His nervousness was picked up by his parents, both of them fretting over every little thing and checking over and over again if he had everything he needed packed, both his mother and his father slipping him a little bit of extra wizard currency without the other knowing ‘just in case an emergency appears and you can’t reach any of us on short notice as they do not seem to have phones’.

 

And now they were all staring at the entrance to Platform Nine and Three Quarters, Q’s hands white at how tightly he was now clutching his parents’ hands. “It does look like a simple wall,” he muttered and his parents nodded, the owl growing impatient and flapping its wings as if scolding them for taking too long – it was, in fact, doing just that since he didn’t want his master to be late for the Hogwarts express as he really couldn’t carry him _and_ his bags to the school.

 

“To be fair,” his father started, “so did the back of that pub.”

 

They glanced at each other and nodded, Q closing his eyes as the three of them rushed towards the wall and passed without so much as tripping. A thick cloud of steam greeted them and it took them a moment to see the huge train that Q was to board.

 

His father braved to take a few steps closer and brush his hand against the steel mammoth, whistling. “Even if this wasn’t a magical train, it will still be impressive.” He took out a small camera and kneeled before Q, ruffling his hair. “A little gift from me and your mother,” he explained as he pushed the camera in his hands. “Since we can’t be with you to see all the wondrous things that you will, so take a picture of anything and everything you wish to show us.”

 

It was getting really hard for him to hold back his tears, especially since his mother had taken to covering his face in kisses and rearranging his coat and scarf. “We’ll send you a new roll of film every week, but if you feel you need one sooner, send the owl. Oh! And I packed you your favourite sandwiches for the trip and a bit extra for the night, just in case they don’t serve food that you don’t like. ”

 

“If you need _anything_ , send the owl and go to Mrs McGonagall,” his father added, taking his glasses off and cleaning them from him. “We’ll find a way to come to you if you need us.”

 

Teary eyed and hair a bigger mess then before, Q hugged his parents and boarded the train, lip quivering when the owl started to make noises as him. “You shush now,” he whimpered, using the sleeve of his coat to wipe his face despite the fact that his mother had stuffed his pockets with napkins. “I’m too full of snot to make a good meal right now.”

 

If an owl could have sighed, that was exactly what he would have done. Really, he was going to have a very hard time getting his human to pet him and like him and the cage – at which he had pecked only twice because it would get Q in a bit of trouble if he got out while on the train – was not going to do him any good.

 

So he mentally sighed and watched his little human disappear halfway out the window in his attempt to keep an eye on his parents for as much as he could, feathers ruffled in worry at the possibility that he might fall out. Especially after the train had started to move and he could clearly hear his parents telling him to not lean so much out the window so, like the good and faithful owl he was, he started to make a lot of noise in the hopes of getting someone’s attention.

 

Compartment doors opened almost instantly and before the Express could pick up even more speed, a hand latched on to the back of Q’s coat and pulled him back inside. “Figured it might have been the new addition to our school,” said Alec as he patted Q’s back. “We can’t fly without brooms you know and I have seen the trolley witch turn into an outright hag when others have tried to _willingly_ leave the express.”

 

On cue, said witch appeared from somewhere, hunched over the trolley which had earned her that name and Q moved a little closer to Alec, the story of Hansel and Gretel making itself quite at home in his mind even if the woman did not look all that scary. “Good evening, madam,” he stuttered.

 

“Anything sweet for you, dear?” She asked in a pleasant voice, pushing the cart closer to him.

 

“Five chocolate frogs from me and two jelly slugs for my sleeping friend,” Alec said when Q remained silent, trying to process the strangely named sweets. “Heard they have new cards this year, with Harry Potter and the others on them because they defeated Baldemort last year.”

 

As he said that, he opened one of the packages and a frog covered in chocolate jumped out which caused Q to jump into Alec’s compartment, landing on something that was more than unhappy about it as Q found himself pushed on the ground in a brutal manner. “Alec, I swear I’ll knock—you’re not Alec,” the talking bench that turned out to be the other blond boy Q had seen that day in the bookstore said and pulled him back on his feet. “You need new glasses if you confuse me with an empty seat, kid.”

 

“They’re live frogs,” Q breathed out, hand clutched over his heart. “The woman is selling frogs that are somehow still alive after being dipped into chocolate and he’s _eating_ them,” he hissed in an accusatory way.

 

“Oh, you’re the muggle-born Alec told me about,” the other concluded, easily snatching a chocolate frog from the stunned Alec and holding the struggling thing in front of Q. “It’s not really alive or made out of real frogs, don’t worry. It’s just chocolate animated to jump around as if it were a frog.” He tapped the confection and it stilled in Q’s hands. “There, now you can eat it without feeling bad.”

 

“Hey, don’t go giving out chocolate frogs that aren’t yours!” Alec snapped, but made no move to take it from Q. “At least give me the bloody card.”

 

But the other wizard held it just out of Alec’s reach and instead gave him a few coins, pushing the card in Q’s other hand. “As an apology for pushing you to the ground and would you look at that?” He said, directing Q’s attention to the card. “You got lucky enough to get a card of Harry Potter himself.”

 

Q stared at the picture of the boy with similar glasses as his, surprised when he suddenly disappeared. “Was I not supposed to touch the card?” He asked and turned the empty card towards the other boys.

 

“He would have left even if you hadn’t touched the card,” Alec said, dragging Q’s entire luggage inside the compartment. “Will you be joining us?”

 

Q glanced in the direction of the other boy, realizing just then that his glasses were slightly cracked. “If both of you are okay with that and with me asking questions every now and then,” or rather, constantly, “I’d be more than happy to be in your company,” he said softly, everything becoming blurry when he removed his glasses.

 

“Muggle-borns are interesting and you do look like someone who would need more than a bit of help,” the other boy said, pulling something from his sleeve which he tapped against the broken glasses. “Oculus Reparo,” he muttered and a red light shot out of his wand, after which he took the glasses from him and put them on his nose. “Name is Bond, James Bond.”

 

It took Q a moment to notice the extended hand in front of him, not because the glasses were broken but because they were as good as new. “Thank you!” He said and latched on with both of his hand to James’ extended on, shaking it strongly. “Can you please teach me how to do that? I do have three spare pairs on me, but it would be just grand if I returned home with all of them intact.”

 

The two boys exchanged looks and James scratched the back of his neck. “To be honest, I wasn’t sure that the spell would do what I wanted it to do as that’s one of the few that simply elude me. But you basically tap your wand and say Oculus Reparo with conviction and they should be mended.”

 

Q nodded slowly, determination in his eyes as he crushed his glasses and took his wand out, tapping them as he had been instructed. “Oculus Reparo,” he shouted, heart beating fast when a little red light shot out of his wand just as it had out of James’.

 

Alec was the one who picked out the glasses and inspected him, glancing at Q’s wands. “Ah, I thought it was sycamore at how fast you picked up on that spell.” He nudged James who leaned closer to the wand, but did not touch it.

 

“Cedar,” James concluded, smirking at Q. “I’ll make a note never to cross you when you learn more advanced spells.”

 

Q regarded them with a bit of confusion until he remembered what he had heard Mister Ollivander say right before he dozed off in his shop. “Never cross a wizard who wields a cedar wand.”

 

“Right,” James said, nodding and smiling. “Now, would you like to try more sweets from the cart? I suggest starting with Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans just to get all the bad luck out of the way.”

 

Q didn’t believe that the name held the truth, but changed his opinion when the first bean tasted like strawberry and peanut butter ice cream and the second one, which looked similar in colour and shape, ended up tasting like sausage. He smelled the third one that was dark in colour and started to sneeze, looking scared at James.

 

“That’s the pepper one,” he cleared up for him and popped in a bean for himself, suddenly pulled a face while Alec started running his tongue over a chocolate frog. “Mine was onion.”

 

“And mine was bloody dog food!” Alec shouted, continuing to lick the frog.

 

Q concluded that two were enough to last him for a life time.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your kudos and kind words. 
> 
> Hagrid doesn't 'speak' in the heavy accent he has in the books/movies.

Q thought that he wouldn’t be more fascinated by anything in his entire life. The two older boys were okay with giving him their books to look through, although James asked Q to leave the wand next to him when he did that. “The spells in this book require a lot of ingredients to have them work properly, but they can still be wrongly set off under certain circumstances and something tells me that you are the type who would mumble the words and wave his hand without realizing it,” the boy explained without being prompted, his voice tone sounding somewhat apologetic.

 

“Correct,” Q instantly agreed because back when he had just started to learn how to read, he was whispering the words as he struggled to figure what word each letter was supposed to for, so logic dictated that he would do the same thing in this situation. Still, he didn’t quite like just _leaving_ his wand lying around because it could snap like a twig – since it was, essentially, just that. “Could you hold on to my wand?”

                                                                                                                                  

The second those words left his mouth, his insides felt funny and the owl lost it. He was squawking and flapping, looking like he was trying to peck James’ hands off. And that was exactly what he was trying to do, because his tiny master was still unaware of just how important wands were and that he needed to bond with his first before he could trust anyone, let alone someone like Bond or Trevelyan who were well known for how careless they were, even to owls – they also liked pranks, but the former Weasley twins had always been the focus of their world, so these two wizards flew under many radars.

 

“Your owl has a point there,” James said before Q could ask if it was hungry. “Then again, you’re new to this business so you don’t know that wands get touchy when they get passed along from one wizard to another, especially this early in the relationship.”

 

Q pulled the wand back to his heart and he felt himself calming down when he decided to put it on the little table to keep it safe, the owl instantly stopping its screeching but not taking its beady eyes off of the two possible menaces. He will give them credit when credit was due for guiding his young master, but that didn’t mean he trusted them one bit.

 

“He’s certainly very protective of you and your _extensions_ ,” James said as he moved to pet the owl only to quickly pull back when an attempt on his fingers was made. “What’s his name?”

 

“Naming him never crossed my mind,” Q admitted after a moment, hugging the book close to his chest as he moved closer to the sad looking bird. He felt bad when he was seeing him looking at him like that, but that sadness was replaced by fear when he glanced down at the way he was tapping his sharp nails against the bottom of the cage, imagining how easily he could rip a pretty big chunk of his arm. “Killer,” he muttered and the owl screeched in disagreement, shaking his head and jumping from one leg to another. “Well, you look like one,” Q argued and hopped back down on the seat, burying his nose in the book that lost all sense after the first sentence.

 

The other owl that Q had yet to notice due to how still and silent it had been up until then, slowly moved his head in the direction of his distressed companion and squawked, telling him in their own language to shut up. He was tired, he conveyed, because his master liked to send notes left and right to upperclassmen in hopes of landing himself the greatest date for the Yule Ball. He couldn’t care less if the tiny, almost blind human that smelled of unrefined magic potential didn’t give him a name he liked; he wanted to sleep and he better keep it down or else he’ll peck his head when they got out of those cages.

 

“Bruiser, play nice or no treats for you,” Alec ordered, crossing his arms over his chest when his owl shrugged and returned to his napping. If he wanted to squawk at the newcomer because he was being too dramatic over something, then he was going to do just that and his human could stuff it or risk losing important letters in the future and go alone at the bloody ball. “You should learn a few things from your new friend over there and—” He stopped talking when he saw the way his owl puffed up, lifting his hands in a defensive manner and taking a few steps back.

 

“My owl puffs up like that quite often; should I worry?” Q instantly asked, eyes widening to the point of almost popping out of his head.

 

James chuckled, patting his back. “About your clothes or hair if he is flying above you or sitting on you when he does that,” he explained. “Alec doesn’t really get along with his bird and Bruiser likes to take revenge on him by ruining his clothes.”

 

“He's more of a menace than a bird,” Alec grumbled, sticking his tongue out at the owl who had been watching him without a single speck of interest in the eye he opened. “Menace to my clothes and letters, not to myself or any other wizards that he might easily pluck up from the ground,” he added after James smacked upside the head, getting smacked again for his choice of words.

 

And Bruiser had to agree, especially since the gloomy owl's companion looked like he was just a bunch of bones held together by some skin and nothing else. Even the mice he ate had to be decently plump, tossing the ones he deemed unworthy right back at his human's head.

 

The compartment felt silent after that, Q slowly put down the book that was much too advanced for him in favour of pushing his face up against the very closed window to observer the ever changing scenery and try to remember if he ever saw train tracks ran through certain parts of the country that he knew without a doubt that he’d been in with his parents while James easily fell back to sleep and Alec busied himself with the apparent impossible task of finishing an entire box of Bertie’s without finding a single bad one – and failing horribly, if the gaging noises he made were any indication.

 

Sleep was just starting to claim him as well when something big and colourful flew by their window, four people on broomsticks right on the creature’s tail. Before he knew what was happening, he was leaning out the window with his two new friends – who had a strong grip on his back so he wouldn’t slip – and watching everyone cheer for something.

 

“That’s an Occamy,” James answered his unasked question, whistling as another person on a broom flew by them. “It’s not supposed to be here, so I wonder in how much trouble Hagrid is in this time.”

 

One of the men waved his arm high above his head and a light shot out, Q quickly hiding his face in the crook of his arm. “They’re not hurting it,” Alec whispered, nudging him. “It’s endangered but it is flying too close to us, so they’re trying to— stop laughing, James.”

 

“You _paid_ attention to a class that we weren’t really supposed to pay attention to,” the other boy gasped out. “How did you manage to do that?”

 

Alec was visibly fuming, contemplating in how much trouble he’d get with McGonagall if he shot out a spell that would push James out of the train. By his logic, not too much because technically they were no longer in the muggle word anymore and he could say that he was reviewing his Defence against the Dark Arts lessons and claim that he accidentally misfired a spell that just happened to hit James so really, it was the teachers’ fault, not his.

 

James had his wand out before Alec could even touch his. “I’ll disapparate you before you are done blinking,” James breathed out, tapping Alec’s wand with his.

 

“That’s not happened the last time _,_ ” Alec breathed out and even thought Q had no idea what they were talking about, he slid out of the compartment and closed the door behind him, crouching down in front of it, the other children that were on the hallway all gathered behind him, shouting for more to join them because ‘Alec and Bond were at it again’.

 

Bets were made, feeble attempts at stopping them were made, and then the wands of hopefully his new friends started to be rolled around, the two boys shifting their weight on their back leg as they leaned away from each other, but when they opened their mouths, A loud, long whistle went off instead of actual words and nothing impressive or scary happened other than a collective groan.

 

“What’s happening now?” Q asked as he watched the other children starting to dejectedly shuffle back in their compartments.

 

“We’re close to the school so we have to put the uniforms on,” James explained as he slid the door opened and tugged Q inside. “Alec, get his luggage down, don’t dig through it,” he admonished his friend, slapping him upside the head.

 

Q nodded his thanks but was distracted from pulling his uniform on by what James and Alec the fact that the inside of their robes were lined with a fiery red and had an emblem of a roaring lion proudly pinned on the left side of it. Compared to theirs, his was boring, bleak and outright morbid, but he still liked them and he felt a tad more confident when he as much as brushed his fingers against it.

 

Still, why where theirs so different?

 

“It’s our house colour,” James said simply as he carefully wrapped a red and yellow scarf around his neck. “We’re in Gryffindor so our black gets red and yellow, but because you’re not in a house just yet…” He trailed off and waved his wand over Q’s head, his clothes changing colours for a second before reverting back to their insipid paint. “Well, you get stuck in black,” James finished, shrugging.

 

Okay, first: creepy. Secondly: Could wizards read minds and if they could, could he learn how to do it? Thirdly: Gryffindor had to be the name of a house – obviously a word play on a griffon. Fourthly, and most importantly, how many houses were there and how did one get in such a house? Obviously it was something official because it ended up being incorporated in their uniform, but what happened if turned out that he didn’t like the house or if he did something that got him kicked out of there? Will he be an outsider? Wasn’t he that already because he—

 

His thoughts came to a sudden halt when James tapped his forehead. “Muggle-born always think too much about the house thing.”

 

Q frowned. How could he not? Everything in this world was new and it defied all the physical and social laws and norms that he had _thought_ humans lived by and he was afraid that he’d find himself in a situation that he hated because he didn’t understand what was happening. Now, for example, he had a lot of questions but could he ask them? His father did say that he shouldn’t be asking some questions, but were house questions part of those questions he wasn’t supposed to ask? Asking James and Alec if they had gone through his confusion had to be off the table, unless they weren’t and the two wizards read his mind and got offended by him thinking they’d be offended.

 

A light elbowing courtesy of Alec put a blessed stop to his erratic overthinking. “James was a real git the first time I met him—”

 

“While you were such a pleasant walk in the park, darling Alec,” the aforementioned git interrupted.

 

Alec clicked his tongue, forcing himself to smile as he ignored James’ little quip. “James was even a bigger git than he is now when we first met, believe it or not,” the wands were out again but Bruiser let out a really loud hoot that scared Q which got his unnamed owl making noise because _how dare he_ and the two were friends once more. “Long list of honest insults short, James didn’t mean to sound condescending and insulting like an old pureblood.”

 

If James’ face and the way Alec was squeezing his shoulder were anything to go by, there was a long and painful story behind those words, so Q decided that he should try to shift their attention to something else. “If you don’t mind me continuing to think too much about this whole thing around you and not be completely lost when I get to this school, could you tell me a bit about these houses?”

 

“There are four houses,” James answered simply, Alec sighing and hinting at him needing to expand a little bit more. “Gryffindor, Alec and mine’s house which is the best one of the lot, Slytherin, which has bad luck when it comes to just how determined the wizards in it, Hufflepuff, which are so kind and sweet in many cases that you swear that they are candies that came to life, and Ravenclaw which is full of wizards that have their noses stuck in their books—”

 

“Ravenclaws are just like geeks,” Alec offered helpfully, making Q feel that he was trying to show off his what might have been referred to as ‘muggle’ vocabulary.

 

James tugged Q closer to him while pushing Alec away with his foot and continued to explain about the how the whole house system worked. The second he mentioned that the sorting would be done by a talking hat that sang a new stupid song each year – which was no less stupid than their school anthem, Alec mumbled – Q’s mind couldn’t focus on anything else.

 

Moving pictures were one thing and he was pretty sure that muggles could create something like that with science, but a talking hat? Was it self-conscious or was it like a robot? A robot, he stopped his gushing to explain to the obviously confused James, was a machine that could mimic thinking if he was programed to do so, but couldn’t actually have a thought on his own because it would be out of his programing.

 

“Although, I did see this movie with father once about how machines became self-aware and things didn’t turn out that great for humanity.” In his honest opinion, everything could have been avoided if the robots were shown nice things when they were still in the learning phase because nothing could be simply evil.

 

“So, like a golem?” James asked and Q returned to looking confused and lost.

 

“More wires and less clay, but yes, James, robots are the muggle version of golems.” The first thing Alec said in a helpful manner that actually turned out to be helpful, even though Q still had no idea what a golem was – thought the more he thought about it, he was pretty sure he either heard or read ‘Gollum’ somewhere. “Also, the hat has a mind of its own and he sorts by the use of Legilimency.”

 

“Which means that he reads your mind, but don’t call it mind-reading because the last person I heard doing that ended up needing to have his nose healed,” James mirrored Alec’s earlier helpfulness.

 

Q gasped and shot up, pointing a finger at him. “I knew it! You _do_ read minds! That’s how you knew what I wanted to ask.” Excitedly, Q closed his eyes and focused really hard on what his mother had packed for him to eat. “Quick, what am I think of right now?” 

 

“Q, we can’t—”

 

“Oh, the hat!” He exclaimed and tossed his pointy hat to the other side of the room. “Okay, how about now?”

 

Instead of answers, he got his hair ruffled by ruffled – and surely by now, he really did look like the kind of person who had birds making nests on his head. “We really can’t as neither one of has the gift or the patience for it.”

 

“Oh,” Q said dejectedly, slouching a little.

 

Alec frowned, crossing his arms over his chest. “We can still do a lot of other interesting things,” he grumbled and Q felt instantly bad.

 

“I didn’t mean to insult your abilities, although I understand why it came out sounding like that,” he said slowly, moving on the other side of their compartment and starting to munch on his lower lip.

 

It was sad he ran his mouth – or showed his emotions – before thinking because he had really hoped these two boys would be his new friends. Maybe he could ask Mrs McGonagall for a list of things he could and could not ask or at least write to his father the second this day was over and ask if maybe he could assist him with this.

 

“His girlfriend dumped him three days ago because of the Legilimency thing,” James murmured, moving next to him just in time to avoid ending up as Alec’s pillow as he threw himself in an overly dramatic way, fake-sobbing and bemoaning his inability to read the mind of others. “He’s also going to continue to be like that until the last whistle for Hogwarts goes off, so do you want me to explain the mind-spell or talk about the sorting hat?”

 

“Sorting hat, please,” Q said with excitement present one more in his voice even though James snorted and shook his head.

 

The train reached its destination just as Alec and James were readying to fire spells at each other because Alec couldn’t help himself but start to mock his friend for actually knowing the hat song, fear digging its claws in Q’s heart so deeply that the world around him slowed down to the point where he could easily see the blue bug that was buzzing just outside their compartment, it’s long, thin stinger looking like a dangerous weapon the more he looked at it.

 

“I will never say this outside of taunting other schools, but Hogwarts is the best school out there and it has the best teachers,” James whispered really close to his ear, grabbing his hand and tugging him towards the exit. “They are so good at their jobs that even the expelled wizards ended up doing great things, so a muggle-born that managed to fix his glasses on his very first try without damaging himself in the process will fit in just perfectly.”

 

James gave him a squeeze right before he delivered to the rather small group of people dressed in all black robes, a tall man whose hair managed to be wilder than his scratching the back of his neck as he smiled sheepishly at him. “There you are, young Mister Boothroyd. Thank you for that, Mister Bond. Was afraid that I’d lost the first year even before the boats,” he rumbled, his deep voice pleasant despite sounding like faraway thunder.  

 

Alec slid into the picture, wrapping an arm around Q’s shoulders. “You know us, H—”

 

“Not giving Gryffindor points for common sense, Mister Trevelyan,” the giant muttered, holding his hand out for Q to take it. “First years take the scenic tour to Hogwarts, but the way to the boats is a bit too dark and I want to be sure that I don’t lose you.” He ended up having to remain hunched unless he wanted Q’s feet to hover a few millimetres from the ground, but he didn’t seem to mind. “Mister Bond, Mister Trevelyan, don’t even try to get out of the coach ride to the school,” he said without even looking at them.

 

Q was instantly surrounded by the other children, bombarding him with all sorts of questions and giving him a taste of how Alec and James must have felt like – he hoped they felt as happy to answers his questions as he was answering those of his new peers. So busy he was talking that he didn’t even notice the five roots that his titanic teacher had no problem hoisting him over, or the one branch that swiped over their heads and that was smacked with a pinkish umbrella. He didn’t even notice that they were in front of a giant, black lake until he was placed in a boat and when he did, he forgot everything that he was talking about it.

 

“Can I take a pic…” he trailed off when he remembered that he forgot _everything_ back at the train station, turning around with the clear intention of bolting, only to be yanked back by the collar of his robes.

 

“All of your luggage is already waiting for you at Hogwarts,” the man said. “But I am sure that Miss Burton will love to lend you her camera, right?”

 

The man turned and pointed towards a petite girl whose hair was changing colour from green to red, a little smile on her lips. “You can call me R,” she said loudly because she was a boat away from Q. “And I will develop the pictures tonight and you can pick the ones you want to give to your parents.”

 

“Thank you! Oh and you can call me Q.”

 

The chaperone picked up a boy that was in the same boat with the newly met R and swapped places with Q, gently patting his head before jumping in his own boat, an unseen force pushing them away from the shore and directing them where they were supposed to go.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your kudos and comments and I have no idea where this is going.

The Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was, in fact, a castle. Not a palace that always made him think of a square cake, like Buckingham, but an actual castle. He was tempted to say that it put the Disney one to shame, but he needed another visit to the one in the park and he thought he remembered his mother excitedly explaining to him that she had been to the real one that inspired the ones in the drawing when she had been in Germany, which also needed to be put under inspection before he could truly declare his new school as cooler than those.

 

And then he actually walked in it and he almost fell down because he tilted his head back to see the ceiling, but his new friend R caught him before that could happen. “Mom told me to be on the lookout for people who do that because she met dad when he fell on her on their first day here.”

 

He had assumed R to be a pureblood when she mentioned how many pictures her parents had shown her from their time in this school, but she explained that wasn’t really the case. Her mother was a half-blood and her father was a muggle-born, so technically she was a quarter-blood, but there was no real term for that in this world.

 

“Does this mean that I have to marry you when we grow up?” He was on the ground in seconds.

 

“Please take no offence when I say this first thing,” she paused for dramatic effect, scrunched up her face and stuck her tongue, “EW and again, no offence for the second thing either, but no.” She said as she grinned down at him. “I’ll maybe think about your proposal after we get to know each other—”

 

“I didn’t propose!” Q stuttered, pulling himself up so fast that he bumped heads with their and Hagrid – the hairy teacher with the thundering voice, but very kind and pleasant personality – were by their side instantly, calling for a Madam Pomfrey – the nurse, R supplied for him – fussing a lot more than they should in both their opinions.

 

And then Q turned pale and he decided that the nurse there was the best idea ever because he just saw a bunch of grown people dressed in clothes he’d only seen in museums come in the large hall _though_ an actual wall. Now, he would have explained that part as magic, think that the wall was nothing but an illusion, but some of the people had obvious holes in their bodies, blood splattered over their clothes, using heavy chains to pretend that they were jumping rope, and others were half-skeletons, so they had to be—

 

“Ghosts,” he whimpered, clutching the hand of the nearest adult as his legs shook. His parents lied to him, the _traitors!_ Ghosts were real and they existed and they were a thing and he knew that one time things had been moved in his room when no one was there and he was staring at clear proof of that. “Mister Hagrid, I don’t mean to alarm anybody, but I think your castle might be just a tiny bit haunted.”

 

“I’d say that Hogwarts is _very_ hunted,” Hagrid said, waving at some of the ghosts. “They are harmless towards our own, or else they wouldn’t be allowed to exist here. Though…” he trailed off and frowned, scratching his chin. “I’d keep my eye on Peeves.”

 

“Which one of them is Peeves? And why?” Q asked, his fear subsiding a little since the ghost had passed through another wall and out of his sight – and because he got distracted by the way the nurse waved her wand over him.

 

“You’ll know who Peeves is the second you see him,” the man muttered, avoiding the look the nurse was giving him as she trotted away and warned him to keep a better eye on the first years or else. “He’s also mostly harmless—”

 

“ _Mostly_?” Another first year asked, panic clear in his voice.

 

“Fine, fine; he’s fully harmless.” He did not sound convinced of that. “Just as long as you are careful if the armours start to shake if you are alone in the hallways; he tends to forget that people can get hurt…” He trailed off and shook his head, forcing himself to smile. “You know what? Forget that I said anything about Peeves—”

 

“How can we when all of the suits just turned their heads to look at us?” R whispered in Q’s ear, clutching his hand.

 

Hagrid made one more verbal attempt to get their minds of off the incorporeal beings before he threw his hands in the air and rushed them down the corridor, practically kicking down the giant, heavy oak doors and pushing them all from behind. “Welcome to Hogwarts,” he whispered and somehow managed to tiptoe away, leaving them to be completely mesmerized.

 

The high walls of the room gradually faded into the clear, blue sky, the floating candles getting lost in the shimmering stars. There were four, long tables filled with children dressed in the house colours – red next to blue next to yellow next to green; he could only remember that that his friends were in the Griffin’s door – and another table in the back of the room that had to be occupied by teachers – and _a ghost_.

 

“Q! Q, over here!” Alec’s loud voice thundered above the chattering of the room, the boy waving happily at him alongside James. “This is the best table in—”

 

“It gives me great pleasure,” Headmistress McGonagall, dressed in beautiful emerald green robes, a hand with a small feather to the side, started to say, ordering Alec to sit down and keep quiet with her glare, “to welcome you all to Hogwarts.” The room erupted in cheers and claps and she patiently waited for the students to settle down before she could continue. “I hope that this year’s greatest problem will be the fact that Mister Bond and Mister Trevelyan will choose to continue the Weasley Twin tradition when it comes to pranking.”

 

“Should we take that as an open—”

 

The headmistress moved her hand from the right to the left, making a little dip at the end and muttering a single word that instantly silenced Alec. “First years, I must insist that you do not try the spell you just witnessed.” She cleared her throat and tilted her head towards the sky, almost all of the stars disappearing. “Before we begin the Sorting Ceremony, we will hold a moment of silence for the honourable heroes who have laid down their lives so that we might be free.”

 

Q made a mental note to ask about this at a better time as he lowered his head, the room and the world around them going silent. Slowly, one by one the remaining starts started to fade and when all was dark, all the wizards that weren’t first years lifted their wands, their tips lit up. Many had tears streaming down their faces, the Headmistress’ own eyes shining with unshed tears and then everything the sky exploded in a whirlwind of light and all the stars were back.

 

After taking a moment to recompose herself, the Headmistress started to list the name of each house, taking a moment to quickly explain what they each were supposed to represent, spending an awful lot of time defending Slytherin and stressing that not all wizards in that house turned out evil and that they mustn’t be ostracized or bullied. “And now, the Sorting Hat will sing his song after which the first years will be called over to the front in alphabetical order.”

 

The hat was an odd sort of hat, its outline brown while colourful patches stitched with silver thread seemed to keep the whole thing together. It also had a large tear in the front – its mouth, Q realized when it started to sing – and its song was as ridiculous as the ones James had sung to him, maybe even more so as everyone was obviously struggling not to laugh.

 

The first two people before him got sorted into Slytherin, the last table on the right erupting into cheers even as its new recruits looked pale and glanced nervously around the room, the Headmistress having to verbally and physically encourage them to actually get them to move. And then it was his turn, Q feeling tense because he thought the hat might have lice than because he might end up in the house which favoured green and snakes.

 

“I assure you that I’ve been enchanted not to get lice,” the hat said with a hint of insult in his voice, the Headmistress waiting for Q to nod before she placed the thing on his head. “Your hair is as safe in me as all the students are in Hogwarts.”

 

Hearing that, Q nodded and the peculiar hat made itself comfortable over his head, humming and clicking its tongue – wait, did he have a tongue? It was enchanted to talk, but wouldn’t the hat still need one to form words? “Not really,” the hat supplied for him. “I don’t vocal cords because I don’t have a throat, but I still talk because of magic.”

 

“Can everything be enchanted to talk?” Q asked and the hat chuckled.

 

“If you are powerful enough, yes,” it said and hummed, closing the slits that made its eyes as he thought deeply. “You are a very interesting sort. You are kind and dedicated like a Hufflepuff.”

 

“Doesn’t everyone?”

 

The hat hummed. “Indeed; thought you just have a punch more than the rest. But is it enough for Hufflepuff?” Q didn’t know what a Hufflepuff was, but he knew that yellow got dirty fast and he wasn’t really keen on sending his uniform every other day to his mum to wash it. “Oh, a very good point,” the hat muttered. “Then let’s focus on your ambition and resourcefulness, perfect qualities for a Slytherin.”

 

Again, something Q thought everyone had. “Would I be right for that house?”

 

“Well, I sense ambition, cleverness, and you are cunning when you have to be, but your sense of self-preservation seems to be lacking, so maybe not Slytherin.” The hat hummed again and Q glanced at the Headmistress, afraid that she’d have lost her patience by now – but the kind smile put him at ease, so he focused back on trying to somehow look the hat in the eye. “You have never and you are brave, yes, yes, but Gryffindor?”

 

Q perked up at that. “Like James and Alec?” He whispered.

 

“Oh, would you like to be in that house because your friends are there?” Well, not if the house wasn’t the right one for him. Would he still be able to be their friend if they weren’t in the same house? “Of course,” the hat said, putting his fears to rest. “True friendship transcends houses, after all, so not Gryffindor for the sake of Gryffindor.”

 

Q heard the disappointed groans coming from the table in question, but he focused on the fact that there was one more house. What if the hat didn’t find him fit for that house? Would he be kicked out? And if he were, what was he to do with his magical powers? How would he learn to control them? What if he ended up hurting someone because he’d accidentally cast a spell? To avoid all possibilities, wouldn’t it be for the best if they lock his powers or take them away? He’d be sad for a bit, but at least the world around him would be safe.

 

“See, this is why I am having such a hard time finding the right house for you,” the hat muttered. “You care for others, you worry for them, you think of what consequences your actions might… Oh.”

 

“What? What?” Q asked, clutching his robes to hold himself from ripping the hat off his head so he could look it in the eyes.

 

The hat chuckled, its sides moving as if it were patting him. “I believe the last but not the least is truly the best for you, my boy. “Your wisdom and intelligence, coupled with your originality in thinking and creativity in resolving the issues makes you just right for RAVENCLAW!”

 

His black robes instantly got a blue lining, his simple black tie – clip on, because the last time he tried to tie one on his own, he had managed to tie his own hands – was now stripped with silver, bronze, and blue, and a badge with a bronze eagle in front of a blue background proudly pinned in the exact same place that James’ badge had been.

 

Overwhelmed by the claps, cheers, and friendly pats he was greeted with at his new table, Q tried to make himself a little ball without being too obvious, even missing the fact his new friend, R, got sorted in the same house as himself. It only really dawned on him that people were talking with him and congratulating him only when he heard James’ deep voice.

 

“A pity you’re not in our house, Q,” he was saying, “but in all honesty Ravenclaw just screams you.” He winked and Q felt his face become just a tad hotter.

 

“The sorting hat said that we can have friends from other houses,” Q murmured, brushing his hand over his shiny new badge.

 

James chuckled, easily slipping in between the other Ravenclaws that were giving him the stink eye. “Of course you can.” He slipped on hand over Q’s shoulders, unable to help himself from teasing the young muggle-born. “Now let’s see… Who would be a decent friend for you and from what house?” He would have continued tease the young boy, but when he saw how devastated and outright betrayed, he wanted to hand in his Gryffindor colours.

 

It also earned him negative points not only with Q as he could see the way his admiration – Alec insisted that the young muggle-born seemed to look at everything even remotely magic with admiration, but Q wasn’t the first muggle-born he met so James knew better – for him drained from his eyes the more he tried to look him in said eyes, but also with Q’s new friend. The girl having no issue digging her heel into his foot, poking him in the side with her want as she practically hissed at him.

 

“Definitely not you, Bond,” she spat out, struggling to kick him while James struggled not to kick her back. “Why don’t you go back to your house table?”

 

“Because no one at my table gets as riled up as you do,” he answered simply before focusing back on Q. “As for friends for you, I’ll say definitely Alec and I.” He winked and slunk back to his table before the heads of their respective houses dragged him back by the ears – Alec was mocking the length of his ears enough as it was – and Q was left feeling ecstatic.

 

“I made new friends,” Q muttered, not really aware that he was eating food that wasn’t there a second ago and that it tasted like something a five star chef would have cooked in preparation for the visit of a very high brow critic.

 

R frowned and sent the two older boys a glare over her shoulder before starting to stab the pieces of broccoli on her plate that had done nothing to her to be punished in such a way. “I feel as if I should offer my condolences.”

 

***

 

It was a good thing that he didn’t get sorted into Hufflepuff, Q thought to himself, as being in a room drowned in yellow was sure to damage his eyes. Blue on the other hand, he quite liked a lot and found it soothing. He also liked the ceiling that had stars painted on it – though since they changed position every so often, there might as well have been a projector stuffed in the corner of the room somewhere – and even the statue of the strict, beautiful woman whose lifeless eyes pinned down whoever headed for the dormitories, grew on him in seconds and he ended up thinking that the place wouldn’t seem right or as safe as it did without it there.

 

The walls that were lined with countless bookshelves and even though he had promised himself that he wouldn’t give in and go to bed directly since tomorrow was the first day of school, Q found himself enchanted by the smell of the books and ended up plopping down in a very comfortable chair with one given to him by the house prefect. But sadly, even though the story was really interesting, his eyelids were growing too heavy for him to follow the plot to the point that even the little knight that seemed to follow him on every page prompted him to go to bed.

 

“Unless thee wanteth thy eyes to beest hath lost to the sharpness of mine weapon at which hour thy headeth finally rests on the pages of this booketh, that is,” the little bloke ‘said’ in the little speech bubble that appeared above him whenever he opened his mouth, the golden letters floating above those of the book.

 

“I have glasses, so my eyes are quite safe from dine sword,” Q whispered, glancing around just in case he was receiving odd looks for talking with a book – though that worry was laid to rest when he spotted an older Ravenclaw having quite a heated argument with classically drawn witch who was hitting him over the head with her broom for whatever reason.

 

The knight’s helmet feather ruffled. “Doth thee mock me, young lord? Thee, who cannot yet wield thy weapon without knocking thy spectacles off?”

 

Q gave in, but only because he deemed himself much too tired to have such a conversation and gently closed the book, having a hard time leaving it behind. Thankfully, the older boy who now had a tiny broken broom lodged in his nose – I’m quite all right, no need to worry – telling him that he could take the book with him to his room, provided he didn’t let the wandering knight escape as the little bugger had a tendency of amassing an army of spiders and bugs so he could go to war with the knight from a Hufflepuff book.

 

“No one really knows why those two fight,” the prefect went on to explain as he led Q to his bed, “though we suspect that it has something to do with the fact that both those books have just one princess.” He looked like he wanted to say something, but shook his head instead and left his torch by Q’s side, using the illuminated tip of his wand to check on the other first years. “Breakfast is at 7 and classes start at 8, so don’t be late.”

 

Q tossed and turned for a few good minutes and just as sleep was starting to claim him, a muffled bang startled him awake. He gave the torch a good shake because he had no idea how to light it otherwise and the darkness was dispersed just in time for him to see the book knight slip out under the door.

 

“Wait, come back,” Q whispered as loudly as he could without waking anyone up, quickly scrambling out of the bed. “You’ll get me in trouble!” he added, although he was sure that the little paper knight couldn’t care less if he tried.

 

He had two options at this point. One, turn the light off and go back to sleep and try really hard not to think that they might be swimming in all sorts of bugs in the morning and get sent home even before his first class, or two, go out after the walking, talking papercut.

 

“I really don’t like spiders.” And with that, he tiptoed out of the bedroom, down the stairs, past the books that were rearranging themselves, and into the unknown that was Hogwarts.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for taking so long, but a muse does what a muse wants - plus, I changed departments at work so I had to learn new things, yey.
> 
> Hope you enjoy~

The school seemed to come to life after everyone to sleep. Literally come to life, a terrified Q clinging to the erratically moving stairs while the paintings encouraged him in hushed whispers. Some of the armours had gathered in corners, murmuring as the hot liquid they were drinking passed through them and the mop not wielding by anyone just continued to move back and forth between them. He even passed by a room in which the furniture seemed to rearrange itself and when a door randomly appeared to his left, he bolted and hid under a table that appeared out of nowhere.

 

Maybe he should have just let that knight wander around the school. The school was big enough to accommodate both students and creepy crawlers and he suspected that there was a spell that could make things hover, so no one would have really been bothered by them in the end.

 

“You there, Ravenclaw,” a woman called from his left and Q turned his torch to the painting on the wall, lowering it when its occupant hissed. “Put that thing out right now, Ravenclaw.”

 

Q was glad that there wasn’t enough light on his face so no one could see him blush. “I apologize; I didn’t mean to wake you all up,” mostly because he had never imagined that paints could be woken up. It must be really cool to be a fan of a band from the wizarding and being able to talk to them late into the night. “I’ll try my best to keep it down, but I accidentally let out this—”

 

“No, no, you silly boy,” the man that had a very interesting pair of glasses hissed at him in the painting across the hallway. “Filch is coming!”

 

“What’s a Filch?” He asked, fixing a spot somewhere in the distance that seemed to be more kind of like the light at the end of a tunnel.

 

Another painting huffed. “I think the hat finally lost it this year,” it grumbled, scrunching his face in disgust. “Putting this daft wizard in Ravenclaw? What’s next? A Muggle-born in Slytherin? A Malfoy in Gryffindor? A—what can’t you put in Hufflepuff?” The other paintings looked at each other and shrugged, causing the man to huff and tilt his head back. “I never understood that house.”

 

That didn’t sound like a proper thing to say but before Q could point that out, a gust of wind hit him in the face and before he knew it, his feet were no longer on the ground. He tried screaming, but a hand placed over his mouth made that impossible. Now Q was at an age when he didn’t believe in the Boogieman anymore and when he was aware that the monsters on TV and in books were made up. But then again, he was also a wizard in a ghost infested place that seemed to have a mind of its own and in which books came to life, so as far as he knew, he was going to end up as a midnight snack for a creature that wasn’t supposed to be real.

 

“I really wish you’d stop struggling,” James hissed in his ear and Q’s brain switched from ‘scratch until you draw blood’ to ‘hold on to dear life’ and clung to him. “That’s better, if a little bit suffocating. But that’s fine,” he said quickly when he hear the other let out a sound between a whimper and a screech. Last thing he wanted was for the entire school to wake up to the sound of the 1st year Muggle screaming like Voldemort was on his tail. “I’m going to set us down on the next floor, but the stairs have been acting up and I want to be sure that I won’t miss the landing.”

 

The landing was perfect in that neither of them broke their legs or suffered any injury, but the lack of decent light had James place Q on the stairs and himself on the actual floor and before either one of them could ask what the other was doing, they were separated.

 

“I’m starting to dislike this school,” Q called out and was instantly shushed by all the paintings behind him. “And paintings in general,” he added under his breath, crossing his arms over his chest.

 

James was next to him before the stairs moved again, the tip of his wand illuminating the hallway before them, signalling him to be as quiet as he could. Poor boy had no idea how close they had been to getting expelled and his senses told him that the Squib was not too far behind them – he also felt that something was really off in the castle as the building was acting more erratic than normal,  like it was trying to keep something away from its inhabitants.

 

Actually, now that he thought about it, something had woken him up and got him out of bed, his mind returning to him only when the Grey Lady passed through him. She did not stop to spare him a second glance nor did she turn to acknowledge his apology and for that, he was more than grateful as she was the only ghost in existence that reminded him what fear was.

 

He was making his way back to his room when he saw Mrs. Norris dash past him without giving him a second glance, probably making a beeline for the Squib to let him know that someone was breaking the rules again and while that had gotten him curious, what held his attention was the fact that the paintings were rushing to see the new Muggle-born get in trouble.

 

Why he was holding a broom that wasn’t his was a complete mystery to him, but he wasn’t going to question good fortune, especially since it helped him save his young friend.

 

“What are you doing out of bed?” He asked in a whisper when he felt like they were a good distance away from getting expelled. “Not that I don’t encourage students to break the more boring rules, but a first year muggle-born out by himself on his very first night in this magical place is a new Hogwarts ghost just waiting to happen,” he quickly added, hoping to get rid of the horrible taste that was left in his mouth after speaking like a Prefect.

 

Q bit his lower lip, beyond disappointed when the pain didn’t put this dream to an end. “I had no idea that reading a book could literally bring one of its characters to life. And I had no idea that he had a vendetta against another book character,” he exploded, albeit in a whisper. “In how much trouble will I in be tomorrow, when they find out?” His parents were going to be so disappointed in him, he was sure of it. And worst of all, he was never going to get to use his wand or learn how to properly make things appear in front of himself.

 

James snorted, shaking his head and squeezing Q’s shoulders. Muggle-borns were so adorable with their fear of everything. “I think I know of whom you speak of and you don’t need to worry; he busts out of that book of his and wages war about five times a year. We actually place bets on who’ll win.”

 

Knowing that pacified Q somewhat, but he still felt bad. He had been instructed to be careful with the book and he failed miserably. And wasn’t one of his house’s attributes being smart and he proved that he was anything but that? “Please help me find him before I get kicked out of my house,” he whimpered, clutching James’ hand tightly.

 

“You won’t,” James started but trailed off and sighed, nodding. Trying to go to sleep now was going to be a hassle for him and he was sure that Q would wake up the Ravenclaw Prefect to confess to everything, including how he had snuck out which would inevitably land him in hot water. No, he had to help his young friend; it was his duty as a Gryffindor. “Fine, let’s go find him. How long ago did he break out?”

 

Frowning and sucking on his lips, Q thought hard. It hadn’t crossed his mind to check the clock when he snuck out of the room and he had lost all sense of time when the stairs were making him dizzy. “Um, maybe an hour? Definitely no more than five,” he said, actually proud of narrowing the time frame so much - he’ll make sure to wear his watch the next time this happens.

 

The bloody bugger moved really fast for whatever it was and it got really far as doors and windows meant nothing to it as it could simply slide under them so hearing that it had been free for at least an hour wasn’t the greatest news especially when given the size of their school.

 

Thank Merlin’s beard he had a broom. They might find the pest and his companion before either one of them could prance in either the Ravenclaw or the Hufflepuff room on an Acromantula. “Hope you liked flying,” he muttered as he straddled his broom and waited for Q to do the same, putting his arms around his middle. “Hold on tight enough not to fall off while also letting me breathe.”

 

Q still on a bit too tight for the first few minutes and pushed his head in James’ back until he felt confident enough to look around without screeching. He slowly decided that flying was quite nice if you didn’t think of all the horrific ways you could die – okay, so he could only think of slip off the broom that didn’t have a seat belt and falling to your death, but it was dreadful enough to count for like ten ways to cease to exist – and even though he almost strangled James when he did a barrel roll in order to avoid two statues that suddenly decided to move, he thought about asking him to do it again.

 

They didn’t actually go into any of the rooms - which left Q feeling disappointed seeing that the just their doors looked very interesting - James simply keeping his head and wand pointed to the ground before moving on to the next floor. When they got to the 4th one, curses started to echo down the stone walls and without so much as a warning, James leaned forward and then shot out through the windows that opened by themselves, passed a tree that actually took a swing at them, and landed by the side of a dark, foreboding forest.

 

Q was very much still clinging to James, even if the other boy had already taken a few steps away from the dismounted broom - which then felt promptly to the ground, so Q suspected that the object itself could not fly unless the wizard wished it to - and he honestly did not plan on letting go anytime soon. He wondered if this place would look as scary as it currently did if the moon was full, but the more the squinted his eyes, the happier he was that one could barely do more than guess the outlines of the trees.

 

‘ _This looks like the kind of place where you’d find a man-eating witch_ ,’ Q thought to himself as he remembered the story of ‘Hansel and Gretel’. ‘ _I wonder if that story was inspired by actual facts._ ’ That thought was made infinitely more scarier the wind picked up a little and twisted the branches even more than before, making them look like a bunch of monsters reaching out for them.

 

Q’s hold increased in strength and he shut his eyes tightly, trying to focus on happier and safer thoughts, but his brain was locked in panic mode. So scared he was that he didn’t think he could make a single muscle in his legs, let alone get them to move and he a creepy noise or a unsettling howl away from outright asking James to give him a piggyback ride to safety.

 

“We’re safely on the ground, so you can let go of me now,” James said gently, but Q just held on tighter to him and looked up at him with wide, terrified eyes. And those eyes just had to be enchanted or something because even though the lightning was horrible and James had to squint to see one foot in front of himself, he still caught a glimpse of them and wanted to hold on tighter to the younger boy. “I’ll hold your hand and nothing bad will happen to you,” he said instead of spell that would push the other away, smiling in what he hoped to be a comforting way.

 

“Can’t we use the broom to fly back?” Q hoped out loud despite eyeing the broom like it was his worst enemy. “There are so many windows that surely whoever we were running from won’t be able to…” He trailed off when he saw a large numbers of owls starting to circle the castle’s towers, shoulders slumping. So much for that idea.

 

James, however, seemed amused by that, even whistling in admiration. “You can say whatever you want about old Flinch, but not that he isn’t resourceful.” He turned to look at Q, winking. “Now why don’t we be resourceful before the Squib comes down here and drags us to McGonagall’s office by the back of our necks?”

 

Q seemed to process only then that he was being incredibly rude and that he was making the whole thing awkward - or more awkward - so he jumped away from James, lowering his head a little and muttering an apology. He didn’t expect the other boy to actually grab his hand, sure that the promise had been made for the sake of getting his personal space back, but James still gingerly took his hand in his, picked up the broomstick, and started walking briskly.

 

He had a pretty good idea where they were, but when you had to pick between accidentally ending up in the arms of the groundskeeper, getting crushed by a temperamental overgrown bush, or use no effort in passing by the heavy sleeper Professor Sprout’s office, than he could obviously preferred the third option even though his little Muggle-born friend might have an issue with the nocturnal plants that developed a liking for pranking students - which wasn’t fun if it got him and Q expelled.

 

Fearing the first two options more than some bloody owls that would tell on them, James held out his wand before them, shielded Q’s eyes, and whispered ‘Lumos’.

 

“What are you doing here?” bellowed Hagrid from right in front of them, grabbing the back of James’ shirt before he could bolt away with a half-passed out Q in tow. “Are you the reason why Mister Filch busted into my house, asking me where I am hiding the out of bed students?”

 

James smirked. As far as he was concerned, Harry Potter and his group was the reason why everyone just assumed that Hagrid would not turn a blind eye to students doing something that they weren’t supposed to, but also housed them, not his.

 

“Being out of bed inside the castle is one thing, five points from each house tops, but being caught _outside_ and coming from the direction of the Forbidden Forest…” Hagrid trailed off, shaking his head in disappointment at himself for already failing McGonagall’s now supposedly simple task of ensuring that no first year got into trouble.

 

He then groaned when he realized that no one in the castle would be allowed to get a single moment of rest until Filch got his way and James and Q were on their hands and knees and using their own toothbrushes to scrub the floors until Mrs. Norris saw her reflection in them.

 

“James didn’t drag me into anything,” Q said quickly, trying his best not to let the very tall and hairy man know that he was, in fact, very terrified of him because he struck him as the kind of person who could easily crush children if he got angry for real. “He was just helping me, honestly and it’s my fault that we’re out here because a squid or a squib or whatever was after us, and even though I have no idea what that is, it can't be something good if we were running away from it.”

 

The words cascaded from his mouth as he continued to explain exactly how they got out there, allowing himself to become distracted and excited that they actually flew, describing in great detail about how his stomach flipped and turned, not realizing that they were being snuck back inside the castle until he caught a glimpse of a pale, see-through woman that resembled the statue in the Ravenclaw dormitory looking at him from behind a column.

 

He clammed up immediately and tried to make himself smaller which Hagrid took as him trying to run away. “Only place where you are going is back to your bed, Q,” he said softly, putting the silent James under the same arm as Q so he could lightly tap a wall that turned out to be a door. “James, if you would lighten up the path for us?”

 

“Lumos,” James grumbled and the tip of his wand turned on. “Shouldn’t we go to the dungeon and deal with the little problem before it turns into a big one?”

 

“ _We_ aren’t doing anything. You two are going back to your respective dorms where you’ll act like two good little boys and go right to sleep and never mention your little night stroll around the school grounds and I’ll go take care of that pest with Finch,” Hagrid said as he stopped abruptly in front of another wall, frowning and grumbling under his breath until he remembered the right amount of knocks needed to summon the door.

 

He then plopped Q down in front of the entrance to his common room and gave him a gentle shove towards the door that had nothing but a bronze knocker shaped like an eagle. Hogwarts was amazing with its magical security system, each House having a different way of allowing its members in their respective common rooms, but Q currently felt that the whole riddle system used to get him back in was deeply flawed.

 

The Prefect explained that if someone got the answer wrong, they had to wait for someone else to answer right to be allowed in as they each had only one shot per knock. But he was the only Ravenclaw present there and since his logic dictated that only his fellow housemates could get the knocker to talk, he really didn’t want to get it wrong and be forced to wait until morning for someone to open the door from the other side.

 

Or maybe he’d be allowed to sleep in the Gryffindor’s common room? If the sofas were as big as in Ravenclaw, then he was all set and James wouldn’t have to share his bed. And if he was lucky enough – although so far that proved _not_ to be the case – there was no roll call in the morning and he’d be able to sneak in the middle of breakfast with none the wiser.

 

“I can knock and try the riddle next if you give the wrong answer,” James chimed in as he didn’t have to be a Legilimens to know what was going in in Q’s head. He himself had been worried about the very same thing the first time he had to present the Fat Lady with the weekly password. “You don’t have to be a Ravenclaw to get the question, you know,” he added when he saw the other frowning.

 

His worries put to rest, Q stuck his tongue out as he grasped the bronze knocker and struggled a little to get it to move. The eagle’s eyes snapped open and it leaned closer to Q, rubbing its chin with its talon before nodding. “I have a large money box, 48 centimetres square and 42 centimetres tall. Roughly how many coins can I place in my empty money box?” It asked although its beak did not move.

 

“What kind of a riddle is that?” James snapped, managing to dodge Hagrid’s hand long enough to demand the eagle to give Q another one.

 

It slipped the Prefect’s mind to inform all new students that the enchanted knocker had a mind of its own despite being nothing more than inanimate object until someone tried to get in. The name of the person who had enchanted it had been lost to the ages, but a lot of people suspected the famed Rowena Ravenclaw and what supported that claim was the fact that the knocker instantly the age of the magical person it was dealing with and its magical background and came up with the appropriate riddle of them.  
  
“I have a large money box, 48 centimetres square and 42 centimetres tall. Roughly how many coins can I place in my empty money box?” The eagle asked again, unfazed by the Gryffindor’s anger.

 

“Just one, after which it will no longer be empty,” the young muggle-born replied with confidence and the door popped open as soon as the correct answer was given. Q allowed himself a moment to sigh in relief and get his feet to stop trembling before turning around to beam at his friend and Hagrid. “Thank you for not telling on us, Mister Hagrid. And thank you for trying to help with the knight, James.”

 

James winked at Q, making the other’s face turn a shy shade of pink. “Hey, it would have been even more fun if we wouldn’t have been caught. Who knows, maybe next time Alec will also—”

 

“There won’t be a next time,” Hagrid interrupted in a thunderous voice, flinching when the paintings that adorned the hallways shushed him. “Sorry about that. Well, good night, Q, and keep out of trouble.”

 

With a wave, Q allowed for the door to close and Hagrid wasted no more time in taking another hidden corridor, assuring James that it didn’t matter if he remembered where the three doors he showed them were as the knocks changed regularly. And no, he wasn’t going to get tricked into telling him that it happened because he learned from his time to Harry how to keep his mouth shut and even if it did, it would still be impossible for him to find out the new code.

 

“And why is that?” James asked as he was plopped down in front of the sleeping Fat Lady’s portrait more because he was reluctant to wake her up than because he wanted to pry the very precious information from the half-giant.

 

He bemoaned the fact that Harry hadn’t left the infamous Marauder’s Map behind when he decided not to return to Hogwarts, but neither he nor Alec pestered with owls the poor boy into giving it up as it was one of the few connections he had with the family he never got to have.

 

“Because, they’re—Ah, no you don’t,” Hagrid said, stopping himself just in time. “Now go back to your bed before Mister Filch realizes that the out of bed students are no longer outside and comes straight to this here floor.”

 

As expected, the Fat Lady was less than happy to be awaken from her beauty sleep, her sharp ears catching James’s ill-advised joke under his breath about how she clearly needed more than she was getting. She wasted no time in starting to scold young James, who she knew was a lord and whose father had been the perfect gentleman so why did he insist on being so unruly?

 

James tried to slip in an apology, but the painting refused to acknowledge his words. Worst still, Hagrid had made himself scarce and other paintings had joined the scolding and even though it was well deserved, all that James wanted to do was get into his bed before Filch’s growling was coming right from behind himself instead of echoing from three floors down like it was currently doing.

 

“And another thing that you _will_ share with everyone who is currently sleeping in the room behind me! My singing is beautiful and those here can attest to that!” The Fat Lady proclaimed while the other paintings suddenly started to cough and murmur that they had something to do on the other side of the castle, where her unfortunate singing – torture weapon, really – couldn’t reach their ears. “Why is everyone in this castle so rude?”

 

A moment of silence on her behalf that James did not intend to waste. “My dear lady, I only meant to say that we abuse your ever vigilant eye much too much and that you would be infinitely more beautiful if only you wouldn’t have to deal with students such as myself.” On top of his magical abilities, he had also been blessed with a silver tongue which he only used with he was in a dire situation.

 

Huffing, the Fat Lady rearranged herself on the unseen chair, resting her hands in her lap. “I should feel more insulted about what you’re currently trying to pull on me, however…” she trailed off, allowing James to realize just how close the dreaded Squib of Hogwarts was. “I am much too tired to be interrogated by that angry little man, so you may enter.”

 

Sighing in relief only when he rested his head on his pillow, James suffered a heart attack when Alec jumped in his bed and another boy lit up the room as more people crowded him in his bed.

 

“What did you do?” A first year demanded.

 

“Where did you go? How many points did you cost us this time?” A seventh year grumbled.

 

“And why didn’t you take me with you?” Alec hoped in, so angry and insulted that his face looked exactly like when he had found a sour lemon flavoured bean.

 

James frowned deeply, wracking his brains for a proper answer. “I am curious of that myself,” he eventually replied and then shared his nocturne adventure from the point he remembered, the Prefect – who had pretended to be asleep because he didn’t feel like writing a report on his first night back and also costing them precious points – groaning when he heard that the paper menace had been freed again.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your kudos, comments, and patience.

It took Q a long while to wake up, although he was still the first of his dorm to be up. A good thing, of course, because he spent the first two minutes panicking about where he was because he had forgotten that he was now a wizard living in an ancient castle and the next ten minutes making sure that the floor wasn’t covered in a carpet made out of hungry, disgusting little pests and then braced himself for what he might find in his shoes because he had also remembered about how careless he had been last night and what he had unleashed.

 

He allowed himself just a second to feel relieved before it dawned on him that, since his house dormitory was in a tower, the infestation might not quite have reached that height yet and a shiver of disgust travelled through him.

 

“Oh, I don’t quite like the colour of your face,” the house prefect said from the doorway and quickly made his way to the bed, clasping his hands behind his back as he leaned closer to him to get a better luck. “I thought the steak and kidney pudding seemed off yesterday,” he grumbled under his breath, grabbing Q’s arm and dragging him out the door. “If a first year Muggle-born Ravenclaw misses his very first day at this fine institute when nothing bad can happen anymore, I’ll have the cooks’ heads!”

 

“I’m really quite alright,” Q started, feeling really awkward and bad for making the older boy worry. “I just had a nightmare.”

 

The Prefect shook his head “Nonsense! I could never forgive myself if anything happened to a Ravenclaw while under my watch, so we’ll visit Madam Pomfrey just to be sure.” He stopped short of the door and waved over a tall boy with light brown hair and dark eyes. “I need you to make sure that everyone gets up in time to make in for breakfast, Terry. And please make sure that the first years have everything they need for the first classes.”

 

“Should I have the teachers mark Q down as sick for today?” Terry asked with more than a little worry in his voice as he too came close to him and hunched down a little to take a close look at him. “Do you think he might have come down with something before coming in or after?”

 

The Prefect hummed, rubbing his chin. “I’m hoping it’s nothing but first day jitters.”

 

“Mixed with the aftermath of a rather pesky nightmare and nothing else,” Q chimed in with a reassuring smile on his face which quickly gave way to a pout when the older boy waived Terry away and continued on his quest to get him checked over by a specialist to make sure that he wasn’t dying due to a curse that might have gotten accidentally cast by someone the night before – or by a Hufflepuff, Slytherin, or Gryffindor that realized that now they didn’t stand a chance against Ravenclaw when it came to either the House cup or Quidditch since Harry Potter had left Hogwarts.

 

Confused by every other word that came out of the boy’s mind and distracted by his internal struggles of _not_ asking if they could stop by the library on their way to Medical so he could get a dictionary, Q found himself facing the kind old woman he had seen a day before as well as a spoon filled with a liquid that smelled like something had died in it five times.

 

“It’s just a tonic that will help with your nerves, child,” Madam Pomfrey said after she noticed the way Q was looking at her, resting the spoon against his lips. “I checked with the new professor of Muggle Studies and he assured me that this is something that parents of muggle-born wizards would be perfectly okay with, so open wide.”

 

Pulling a face and bracing himself, Q was did as instructed, surprised by how good it actually tasted. “How can _that_ taste like strawberries? It’s not even the right colour and…” His hands shot up and wrapped themselves around his neck, eyes going wide. “And I’m pretty sure that I’m allergic to it!”

 

“It doesn’t have any strawberry in it, don’t worry. It’s just made to taste like whatever you would like it to taste as long as it isn’t something that would have alcohol in it for very obvious reasons,” Madam Pomfrey explained, gently patting Q’s head before pouring herself a spoonful of the stuff. “To me, it tastes just like pumpkin juice.”

 

Still frowning and licking his lips, Q eyes the bottle. “May I have some more? It’s good to taste it without breaking out and suffocating.”

 

Madam Pomfrey chuckled and patted his head as she helped him jump off the bed. “No, because you have to go to classes, not back to bed. But you’ll soon learn many spells that will help you with your little problem. Now, try to relax and enjoy your first day here, okay?”

 

Q nodded and followed the now smiling Prefect into the dining hall, almost tripping on a table because he got distracted by the ceiling again. If, the night before, he could see the stars as if he were outside, he was now staring directly into the sun without his eyes stinging or watering.

 

“If you’re hoping you can get out of class by temporarily losing your eyesight, that won’t happen in here and Madam Pomfrey has something for that,” Alec said as he put an arm around his shoulders and easily pulled him from the Ravenclaw Prefect’s grasp. “I need him to help me with something in Muggle Studies,” he said over his shoulder while guiding Q to the Gryffindor table where James made room for them right next to him.

 

“I’m not sure I can help you with—”

 

“It’s about what happened last night,” James whispered and Q sat down so fast that he almost missed the bench. “But it’s not about that little pest since no one ever cares about how he got out and the teachers are already on it, so you can relax,” James assured him, slapping another boy’s hand away from a plate filled with delicious-smelling pastries so he could put it in front of Q. “I wanted to ask you if you saw or heard something strange last night.”

 

Q stopped right before biting down on a croissant and arched his eyebrow. “You mean other than the moving stairs, flying brooms, very real ghosts, moving and talking paintings, and hidden tunnels? Do I need to worry about something else? Like books that might bite my hand off?”

 

Alec’s sudden bark of laughter startled more than Q, half of the dining hall falling silent while some teachers glared at him from the podium. “Well, there’s this one book—” James simply punched Alec’s shoulder without taking his eyes off of Q. “I’m sorry, I should be focusing on how asking a muggle-born about strange things around the castle wasn’t your best idea yet, James.”

 

Q frowned and James hit Alec again. “Don’t be disrespectful to our little friend, Alec. I’m very sure that both of us would find his world as confusing as he does ours.”

 

The way Alec pouted and rolled his eyes reminded Q of himself when he was scolded for doing something he shouldn’t have had. “I was mocking you, not the kid,” Alec grumbled, rubbing his shoulder.

 

“They’re always bickering like this, little Ravenclaw, so I hope you won’t let their growls distract you from your food or you’ll end up wasting away,” the girl with curly dark hair and shining dark eyes that made her looked wise beyond her years that sat across him explained, proving that she was better at reading the atmosphere than the boys were. “I’m Eve, by the way. Eve Moneypenny,” she introduced herself, holding out her hand.

 

“All my friends call me Q, so feel free to do the same,” he said and took her hand, the smile he was mirroring dropping a little when the girl tugged him forward.

 

“If they ever get too much for you, come to me and I’ll put them in their place and teach you how to properly handle them,” she whispered and then just to prove her point, chucked a sugar lump at James’ head, stopping him mid-wand wave. “Don’t you dare cost us points by duelling at the breakfast table!”

 

After James and Alec pocketed their wands and sat down, breakfast became a quiet affair and Q returned to his table where R was waiting for him with the pictures from the previous day and stories of a strange dream that some of the girls in their House seemed to have shared on the previous night. Naturally, because the pictures were moving despite the fact that they were printed on a thin sheet of paper just like the non-moving pictures, Q didn’t hear anything about the strange dream until R tugged on his robe and asked him what he thought about it.

 

“I’m sorry, but they’re moving,” Q said sheepishly, face burning with embarrassment.

 

Hiding her obvious amusement at Q’s fascination with something that was considered normal behind a mug of tea, R started for the top. “I was asking you if you had any strange dreams last night since it seems that quite a few girls – me included – had a shared nightmare.”

 

“Was it about tiny paper knights coming out of nowhere on giant spiders and cockroaches and getting expelled?” Q honestly asked, realizing only then that he really did dream about that.

 

R arched her eyebrow. “No, it was about an eerie song and a shadow, but I think your nightmare is more interesting.” She leaned closer to him and signalled him to do the same, eyes darting around to make sure that no one was listening in on their conversation. “Are you the reason why Headmistress McGonagall was stomping out of the dungeons a bit earlier, grumbling about burning something to a crisp?”

 

By the time he was done explaining everything that had happened to him the night prior – R promising that she wasn’t going to tell on him for being out of bed and on a broom after lights out – breakfast came to an end and they were all herded to their respective classes, Q forgetting all of his worries as he eagerly absorbed everything he could from his first lessons.

 

He didn’t mind that he was the last to get his feather floating just a minute before Charm class was over because _he_ had used _magic_ willingly. He was even happy when the professor asked him to make sure he practices the spell before his next lesson which confused the man because the two other Ravenclaw students that have been told that had left his classroom whimpering.

 

Herbology sounded like a fancier way to say ‘biology class’ and while the name of some plants as well as their abilities made Q eye the potted plant that appeared out of nowhere in the main hall – R claimed that it had been there the day before and that he had been too busy being scared of their ghost to notice it – he still liked it.

 

Next on his list was Transfiguration and he thought that Professor Tanner looked as anxious as they felt, stammering through his introduction of both himself and his class. James revealed during their Lunch break that Headmistress McGonagall had taught that class before Tanner and that he was so jumpy because he heard from a 7th year that she had promised the man that she’d attend his classes for the first year in her Animagus form to make sure that he did justice to her beloved subject.

 

“On that note,” Alec butted in, ignoring the way a few first year Ravenclaws were glaring at him for scoffing down their food and occupying space at their table, “I got someone on the outside who guaranteed me that he can give me by tomorrow three cats that looked exactly like McGonagall.”

 

“I’d hate to have to call students in my office so early in the year,” the Headmistress said from the podium, her narrowed eyes zooming in on James and Alec. “Especially if they were from my house.”

 

“Bond! Trevelyan! Get back to this table and stop plotting stupid things before we lose any house points,” Eve shouted and the two disappeared from his sides in the blink of an eye.

 

The first class after lunch was History of Magic and although R promised that he was going to be bored out of his mind, Q found it to be anything but that mostly because everyone had forgotten to mention that Professor Cuthbert Binns was the ghost teacher.

 

He made to run away, but R had dug her fingers in his robes and it just so happened that Hagrid was passing by and made sure that the girl wouldn’t be dragged away by the very scared Q. “Now, now, Q… Mister Binns is a very nice ghost and a very good teacher that can always help anyone who might suffer from a bad case of insomnia,” Hagrid explained after he kneeled in front of Q – and still towering over him.

 

“But he’s _dead_ ,” Q whispered, quickly ducking down when he thought the professor moved to see what all the commotion at the door was.

 

Hagrid frowned – still less scary than a ghost in Q’s opinion. “Now that isn’t a very nice thing to point out, Q. Now how would you feel is someone ran away from you screaming just because you have glasses?”

 

“Amused because who’s afraid of glasses?” Q said honestly, shrugging. “A ghost, on the other hand, is a better reason…” He trailed off and tried to make himself smaller when he realized that the ghost was peeking at him over Hagrid’s shoulder.

 

“Oh, I understand,” the ghost said in what had to be the softest voice Q had ever heard, a sad smile spreading on his lips. “It is quite alright, young student.” He turned towards the classroom and waved his hand towards a desk, the book that was resting on it suddenly floating towards them. “Read the first twenty chapters about Uric the Oddball and Emeric the Evil and write an essay about their lives and the difference between them by next week.” The ghost then turned and floated back inside the classroom, not bothering any of the students as he passed through them to get to the podium, the large door closing in on the scene with a heavy thud.

 

“That was the least boring he ever sounded,” Hagrid muttered, sitting up and starting to walk, gently tugging Q after him. “I suppose I should take you to the library, but Nearly Headless Nick is in there holding a meeting with the other ghosts—”

 

“How can someone be _nearly_ headless?” Q muttered, struggling to hold the history book in one hand.

 

“You should ask him that when you start to feel less scared around ghosts,” Hagrid said cheerfully and then stopped suddenly. “Actually, don’t; you might start being afraid of them again.” What little curiosity Q felt about that died instantly. “Anyway, you’ll spend this hour in my class, but I don’t want you to do anything other than to stand by my side, okay? No screaming, no wailing your arms around and, most importantly, no running away. You’re small enough for Beaky to mistake for food.”

 

Q gulped and made sure to be glued to Hagrid’s side.


	7. Chapter 7

Beaky turned out to be something called a hippogriff that really looked like a much bigger, angrier, and hungrier owl, so Q instantly disliked him. It didn’t help that the creature somehow caught sight of him even though he was lying low in the grass and made a beeline for him, trotting right past Hagrid.

 

“Beaky, what did I say about rushing towards unsuspecting students?” Hagrid scolded the giant bird creature, not bothered by the fact that he was ignored in favour of Q. “Aw, he likes you.”

 

Covering his head and pushing himself closer to the ground, Q was pretty sure that he was close to having a heart attack. “Are you sure it isn’t checking with its beak which part of me is tender?”

 

Hagrid’s laughter sounded like thunder rolling in the distance. “He’s just bowing down to you because it looks like you’re bowing down to him and that’s the first step to befriending a hippogriff.” He sounded quite proud of Q. “You can pet him now if you want.”

 

“I’d rather not, if it’s all the same to you,” Q whispered, yelping when Hagrid gently grabbed the back of his robes and pulled him back up on his feet.

 

“He’ll warm up to you very soon, Beaky, don’t worry,” Hagrid called out after the retreating creature before turning his attention back to Q. “He might seem scary, but he’s a really soulful creature and you’re just going to love him to bits if you like animals and creatures in general.”

 

Animals, he liked – most of them, at least. He was still unsure about how he should view owls, especially since he constantly caught sight with the corner of his eyes of his own everywhere he went. Creatures though? He was pretty sure that he quite feared and strongly disliked those. “I think that word means something different in my world than in yours.”

 

Hagrid hummed, thinking deeply about something for a moment before snapping his fingers and grinning. “It’s a good thing you’ll be present for the very first class of Care for Magical creatures! Granted it’s with the fourth years, but I think I heard Minerva saying something about doing a summary of what they learned in the previous year and now it makes perfectly good sense to do that because you can’t be a wizard if you’re scared of everything around you.”

 

Q opened his mouth to argue, but then quickly shut it, realizing that Hagrid had a very good point.

 

***

When the class had started, James had been up front and centre as this was his favourite subject due to how Hagrid seemed to be a practitioner of ‘learn from your mistakes and read the text book only if you have to or want to’, but quickly retreated to the back when he realized that Hagrid was trying to emulate all the other teachers and then to the branch that Q had been perched on without anyone noticing when he caught sight of him

 

“I think this is the first time Hagrid is finding out about these rules,” James said with clear amusement at how shocked the half-giant looked while reading out loud from the thick, dusty book that might as well have been a first edition of their own textbook.

 

“What?” Q asked, stopping his writing mid-sentence to focus on James.

 

“Hagrid knows everything about how to take care of magical creatures, but not a lot when it comes to the proper etiquette,” James explained, biting his lower lip to keep himself from outright laughing at how outraged Hagrid was now over something he had read.  “For example, back when he was just a groundskeeper, he had a baby dragon hidden in his not quite fire-proof hut, so hearing him list the rules he broke and asking us to always mind them when handling magical creatures is a hoot,” James went on peering over Q’s shoulder to get a better view on what exactly he was doing. “You know you’re not supposed to write any of this down since this isn’t your class, right?”

 

Q felt his face heat up and quickly closed his notebook. “What he’s saying is really interesting and I don’t think it will hurt if I get an early start on this class.”

 

“This class is optional,” James said slowly, fixing Q with his blue eyes. “And I don’t recommend you taking it if you can’t even pet your own owl without having a heart attack.”

 

“Dad said they’d eat me,” Q muttered, hiding his face in his notebook when James arched his eyebrow and made him realize how stupid he sounded. “Well, if they are large enough and hungry enough, they might confuse me with a field mouse and I really didn’t want to risk it since I kind of resemble a twig!”

 

James shrugged. “I have no idea what kind of mouse that is or how it looks compared to you, but I assure you that an owl would not allow that to happen. They are fierce protectors of their masters and their master’s offspring and they are willing to give up their lives to save them.” His eyes glazed over as he said that and Q got the impression that James was no longer there. “They’ll try to carry you to safety even though you’re too heavy for them and when their wings get crushed and they’re bleeding, they’ll still try to peck the eyes out of those who mean you harm, ignoring your pleas because they’re stubborn little bastards.”

 

Worrying his lower lip, Q carefully touched James’ arm. “I can share my owl with you if you want.”

 

The lost and empty look in James’ eyes disappeared instantly and he flashed Q his usual mischievous grin. “Not until you pet it and let it sit on your shoulder, like it wants to.”

 

“How do you—”

 

“They should have a class about caring for stubborn students that never do what they’re told even though it’s for their own good,” Hagrid grumbled from under the tree, his large, stubby fingers wrapping around his leg. “You okay up here, little buddy?” Q nodded mutely, letting go of James so he could hold up his little notebook. “Ah, being a true Ravenclaw I see.”

 

“I’m also good up—”

 

“No, you are not,” Hagrid interrupted James, frowning. “Time for you to get your fire crab egg.”

 

“Talk to you at dinner,” James managed to get out right before he was pulled out of the three and unceremoniously dumped on the grass next to a snoozing Alec, startling him awake.

 

Left to his own devices, Q spent the rest of the class attempting to figure out how to spell ‘skrewt’ without asking anyone for help and failing to keep himself from going back to what James had said. It was obvious that the boy had spoken out of his own personal experience, doubting that anyone would be able to describe an owl’s loyalty and determination without having personally witnessed it.

 

He obviously couldn’t ask James what had happened and asking anyone else would be low as that wasn’t their story to tell so, logically, the only thing he could do was drop it and pretend that the conversation didn’t happen beyond James telling him to stop being afraid of his own owl because it was stupid. But that was easier said than done and his thoughtful frown wasn’t missed by Hagrid who had taken it upon himself to personally take him to his next class after he caught wind that James and Alec planned on smuggling him into their next class.

 

“Fire crabs are cute little creatures that only eat bugs,” Hagrid said out of nowhere, jostling Q out of his thoughts. “Most magical creatures are, you know. They mean no harm to anyone unless provoked except for a few and the same could be said about the animals muggle know.”

 

Q hummed in agreement, stopping and suddenly turning his head to look to his left, catching his owl mid hop on a tree branch, very obviously trying to hide. “I suppose that if this one was indeed out to get me, the school wouldn’t let it live on its grounds and it would be better at hiding.” As he said that, the owl put its head under its wings and tried to make itself looking smaller, making Hagrid laugh. “You don’t exactly blend in and I have bad eyesight, I’m not blind,” Q called and the owl’s feathers ruffled, but did little else to attempt to no longer be seen.

 

“Think it’s just trying to look cute and gets its name already,” Hagrid muttered, holding his arm out for the owl to land on it. “What’s its name?”

 

The owl perked up when it heard that and happily hopped out of the tree, very slowly walking towards Hagrid, its beady eyes never leaving Q’s as it very obviously waited to see if the boy would really allow him to be that close to him – Q was still unsure if he should take that as further proof of the owl’s benignness or its cunningness when it came to leading its pray in a false sense of security and loyalty until the time was right.

 

“Killer,” Q said and the owl puffed again, letting out a disagreeing noise. “I don’t think he likes it.”

 

Hagrid hummed, walking closer to the owl and leaning down with his arm still extended. “It really doesn’t fit him, in my opinion. Then again, I’ve been told numerous times that I’m not good with naming creatures either, but Fluffy looked like a Fluffy when he was a wee pup that liked to hide in my beard despite having two extra heads that tended to want to chew on everything that they could sink their teeth into.”

 

Fluffy had sounded adorable up until the extra heads were mentioned and Q had to physically bite his tongue to keep himself from asking if the gates of the underworld were a thing for the wizarding world since he felt that he wouldn’t like the answer. Still, now that he compared the fluffy owl with what he imagined Fluffy to look like – no one ever mentioned an armour made out of the bones of those who annoyed him covering his back or anything about the dog spitting fire, but he saw no reason not to imagine it like that – he understood that he too was terrible at naming animals.

 

“I suppose I could rethink his name,” Q muttered, hesitantly beckoning the owl closer, fingers digging in Hagrid’s jacket when it jumped on the happy half-giant’s arm, making little noises of flapping its arms. “Are you sure it’s not trying to rip some meat off your hand?”

 

Hagrid laughed again and the way he tilted his head back and his entire body shook made Q think of all the Santa Clauses he saw in commercials and cartoons. “This little fellow would lose its beak and claws before he could even scratch me, not that he wants to do that, mind you” Hagrid assured him, bringing the happy owl closer to Q. “Why don’t you try petting him? You have to admit that he’s less scary than Beaky.”

 

“I do, but I don’t like it,” Q muttered under his breath, hating that the owl was looking at him in such a way that he finally caved in and he very carefully ran his fingers down the owl’s side, freezing when the bird let out a strange noise and puffed up, pushing his head against Q’s hand.

 

“He’s just happy,” Hagrid explained, taking Q’s free arm, slipping a leather glove on it – Q had no idea from where he pulled that out, but he was starting to suspect Hagrid of having a second job during the end of December – and then transferred the happy owl to him. “Now let’s get you to your next class. It is also not polite to keep Mister Graves waiting and let me assure you that the jinx on his teaching position has been lifted, so no need to worry.” He quickly lifted his hand to keep Q from bombarding him with questions, ignoring the way the owl was eyeing him. “Forget I said anything about jinxes. There’s no such thing and don’t trust a single word that comes out of Bond’s or Trevelyan’s mouth.”

 

Q was definitely going to ask those two specifically about what Hagrid had accidentally blurted out. Though right now he had more pressing matters to clear up. “Mister Graves isn’t a ghost, is he?”

 

Thankfully, Mister Graves turned out to be very much alive, if a little bit scary looking. His dark eyes seemed to pierce the soul of whoever he was focusing on, his hair gradually changed from dark to white, and he moved about the room without making a single noise despite using a heavily-looking cane to walk.

 

“I am Percival Graves and I will be your new and _permanent_ Defence against the Dark Arts teacher.” His deep voice sent a shiver down everyone’s backs and when he tapped the ground with his cane, they all took a step closer to the floor which made Mister Graves sigh and attempt what appeared to be a smile – it was creepy, but at least his teeth were perfect. “I’ve been told that I can be a little bit intimidating, but I assure you that I am not.”

 

“Clearly Mister Graves does not know that if he had to assure people that he wasn’t intimidating, then he was very intimidating,” R whispered, chocking on her own chuckle when she felt a heavy hand resting on her shoulder.

 

“I suppose you are right, Miss Burton,” Mister Graves said smoothly and only then did Q notice that he was right next to them. “Why don’t we use this first class to get to know each other a little better?” Everyone nodded once at the same time and Mister Graves let out a heavy sigh as he moved to the front of the room without anyone noticing it until he tapped the ground again. “I’ll start, so no need to worry about that, and then we’ll go in an alphabetical order,” he continued, sitting down in the chair that had moved on its own. “I am a Graduate of Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I was a Wampus so it was only logical for me to become a M.A.C.U.S.A Auror. I started teaching at Ilvermorny in 1947 and continued to do so up until 1995 when, due to what happened in Little Hangleton, I was recruited by M.A.C.U.S.A to help make sure that our Aurors were ready for the incoming threat. Any questions?”

 

Everyone in the class was still too terrified to move, but since Mister Percival Graves wasn’t a ghost or a giant bird that could easily eat him, Q was more fascinated than afraid of him by the time he was done talking, so he was the only one with his hand in the air.

 

His bravery seemed to make Mister Graves happy, his face relaxing a little which made his smile look much more normal. “Mister Boothroyd, you have the floor and please, do not feel like you have to hold back. Ask me anything you want.”

 

That was all Q needed to hear and he spent the best part of the following ten minutes bombarding Mister Graves with all sort of questions that ranged from why his hair changed colours to what everything he just said meant. And Mister Graves seemed more than happy to answer everything, even sharing a few stories from when he was a magical cop – that’s what an Auror was and Q’s mind was blown for a few moments because he had no idea that you could actually have a job other than Hogwarts teacher in the wizarding world – which got the class to practically eat from his hand – although when it came to explaining his hair, his face turned a bit red and said that someone accidentally used the wrong spell on him that morning.

 

No one had time to introduce themselves by the time Mister Graves was done answering Q’s questions, but he assured him that everything was fine since their first assignment other than reading the first chapter of their textbook was going to be them writing an essay about who they were and where they saw themselves in the future.

 

“Mister Boothroyd, there’s something I want to talk to you about, so please don’t leave just yet,” Mister Graves called out from the group of students that were asking him to either sign their textbooks or if he could get Newt Scamander – the author of the book that Hagrid was reading from in his class – to visit. “Miss Burton can stay behind with you if you’d like.”

 

“I’m fine staying by myself,” he assured Mister Graves, R squeezing his hand and promising to save a seat next to her in Potions class.

 

Once every student left the room, a nervous looking Mister Graves signalled Q to take a seat wherever he wanted while he sat down at his desk. “I’ve been told that you are our only first year Muggle-born?”

 

Q frowned and slowly nodded. “Will that be a problem for this class? I was the last to get the feather to fly, but I promise that I’ll do my best.”

 

“Ah, no, no, I didn’t mean it like that,” Mister Graves said quickly, running one hand through his hair, finally getting it to stop changing colours. “I just wanted to have a little talk with you and make sure that you didn’t have to suppress your powers up until now and that you understand that you are here to learn how to use them, so you should never be ashamed if you ever make mistakes when casting a spell as even pure-bloods do that at first.”

 

“I wasn’t even aware that I had powers up until I accidentally made an engine appear before me a few weeks ago,” Q said slowly, still very much confused.

 

Mister Graves nodded, Q noticing just then that a feather was writing something down in a parchment by itself right next to them. “And, would you say that your parents understand that you are a wizard and that it’s not something that you can control, or were they mad when they found out and they had to be _convinced_ into letting you come here?”

 

“I think they were really scared at first because of all the owls and I am pretty sure I saw my mother age ten years instantly when Headmistress McGonagall started to talk while still in cat form, but I think they’re very okay with how things turned out.” On that note, he remembered that he wanted to ask R when she would develop her pictures and how much he should pay for his. “Am I in trouble for being a Muggle-born?”

 

“What? No, no, you are most definitely not in trouble and if anyone makes you feel like you’d be in trouble, then do not hold back from coming to whatever teacher you feel comfortable with to let them know what’s happening.” Mister Graves not only looked very nervous, but he was also sweating and the napkin he pulled out of thin air didn’t seem to really do anything to keep the beads of sweat away from his temples. “I do apologize for this, but I haven’t interacted with a Muggle-born wizard in ages and the last time I did, I didn’t act fast enough and—”

 

“Slow down, Percival, and remember that times have changed since we were young. Muggle parents are more open to the idea of their children being wizards,” someone said from the door and Q turned to see a tall man with short, white hair smiling. “I’m Credence, Hogwarts’ temporary Potion Master until professor Horace Slughorn makes a full recovery.”

 

“I worried needlessly it seems,” Mister Graves muttered and Q watched as the Potion Master got him to relax with a simple squeeze of a shoulder and a reassuring smile. “Mister Boothroyd, I do apologize for wasting your time,” he said, clearing his throat after Credence whispered something in his ear. “But know that if you or your parents ever have questions about this new world the doors to my office as well as those of my colleagues will always be open.”

 

Nodding and giving Mister Graves two thumbs up, Credence guided Q out of the room. “He will be mothering you by accident during the practical part of the lessons, but you just remind him that by doing that, he’s supressing your growth and he’ll back off right away,” Credence instructed him softly, chuckling when he saw how serous Q looked when he nodded. “Now I already had your classmates form groups of two to work on the Boil Curse and Miss Burton will be your partner.”

 

That certainly made the next hour spent grinding 6 snake fangs and boiling 4 horned slugs in pass by faster, although Q suspected that even if he was made to do all of that by himself, he’d still have had a great time since Credence – he insisted that no one addressed him with ‘Mister’ because it made him feel old and he always found a very interesting way to distract people when they asked what his family name – had a lot of very interesting stories about what he did before coming to Hogwarts.

 

He soon forgot about Credence’s stories about wondrous magical creatures – that didn’t terrify him, mind you – because the second to last class for that day was the flying class and he couldn’t wait to feel as free as he did the previous night on James’ broom.

 

“I feel like that should be counted as cheating,” R said as they made their way to the lawn by the Forbidden Forest, their shiny, unused brooms clutched tightly in their arms.

 

“Did you forget when I told you that all I did was clung to James for dear life?”

 

R shrugged. “Still cheating because you found out yesterday that you do not get broom-sick while the rest of us will do that today, with a crowd.” She put her broom on the ground and tugged Q down to her level, leaning close to him so she could whisper in his ear. “Also, the Blue Butler painting over on the last floor let it slip to the Ghost of Grimilda during our Potions class that she saw you sharing a broomstick with James last night, so of course now all the students know and word has it that Martha, who’s a Gryffindor in the same year as him, has it in for you.”

 

“What? Why?”

 

But before R could answer those two very important questions, Professor Rolanda Hooch entered the field. “Good afternoon class and welcome to your first flying lesson,” she shouted, smiling for a second before all emotions drained from her face. “Well, what are you all waiting for? Everyone step up to the left side of their broomsticks.” She nodded proudly as no one mixed their left with their rights. “Now stick your right hand over the broom and say up like you really mean it!”

 

That seemed like an easy thing to do, but the brooms were stubborn – if an object that wasn’t sentient could be that. They did little else than flop around on the ground or hover just a few inches in the air for two seconds, crushing their handler’s hope as fast as they had raised it while their throats became sore. And then, just as Q felt like he was going to start coughing, the blasted broom suddenly flew into his hand, very clearly hovering.

 

“Very good!” She shouted once everyone had mastered the art of getting their broom to listen to them. “Once you got hold of your broom, I want you to mount it. And grip it tightly because I don’t want anyone slipping off it. When I’ve blown my whistle I want each of you to kick off from the ground. Hard. Keep your broom steady, hover, then lean forward and touch the ground.”

 

Now that part was indeed easy even though Q’s heart had jumped in his throat the second his feet no longer touched the ground. It was scarier now that James wasn’t there for him to hold on, but it was also more exciting and liberating because he was doing this on his own. He was willing the magic within him to flow through a broomstick and making it go against the laws of nature.

 

“Time to come back down to the ground now, Mister Boothroyd,” Madame Hooch said from above him, arms crossed over her chest. “Just lean forward and your broom will obey you and don’t forget to untuck your feet from under the broom so you don’t slam into the ground and break or sprain anything.”

 

He didn’t exactly have a smooth landing, but it was a lot better than a Hufflepuff’s, the poor boy somehow managing to slam himself against a tree and then get hit over the head three times by his own broom before it fell on him.

 

Madam Hooch did not hold back from resting her head in the palms of her hands. “Great, now the jinx is on _my_ class,” she grumbled before starting to shoo everyone away. “Make way, make way! I’ve had first year students with worse wounds and they all survived so there’s no real need to panic. Boy, tell me your name.”

 

“Kirk Barr,” the boy groaned, staggering once Madam Hooch pulled him back on his feet.

 

“I want everyone to stay right where they are while we go pay Madam Pomfrey a visit,” Madam Hooch ordered as she helped Kirk Barr walk. “I will be deducting ten house points for each and every person I see in the air! And don’t anyone _dare_ wander into the Forbidden Forest! It’s forbidden for a reason and no, you may not go in it to find what that reason is.”

 

It was very obvious that a few students were planning not to listen to hear by how close they were watching Madam Hooch disappear with the wounded Kirk into the school, but as soon as one of the Slytherins touched their broomstick, Mrs Norris jumped on it out of nowhere and let out a long, low hiss.

 

“Would you let me take it if I give you some milk?” The Slytherin asked, narrowly avoiding getting his face scratched off. “How about—”

 

“No broom touching either, we got it,” a Gryffindor interrupted the sullen Slytherin, pulling him away from his broom, hissing something in his ear before they both turned to look at a window, visibly shivering at the sight of the glaring Argus Filch. “Told you.”

 

So it looked like they were grounded for real, not that they were really bothered about that as they all crowded around Q to ask him all sorts of questions about how last night’s flight was and about how Hagrid’s class was and if it was true that he let his secret army of baby dragons chase down the forth years to weed out the weaklings.


End file.
